Thank God the New Girl Came
by midnightmusings29
Summary: The mysterious Nicci Lonsen joins Hogwarts in Harry's third year and somehow manages to tell them nothing and everything at the same exact time. With many OC's and original plot! ...Eventually. Includes lots of lying and immaturity. H/G R/H
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

Two ghosts were gliding over the corridors of Hogwarts, talking nervously. Even with the air of the last day of school hanging over the castle, their spirits were not lifted.

Neither ghost could deny that it had been a very eventful year. The Basilisk being killed (Alecta had had a field day when she heard about that one; it had killed her mother), the Un-Petrification of all the students, and the exams being cancelled had brightened the school considerably. Even though they didn't reside in Hogwarts, that year they had been there constantly. They had been watching Alecta Gryffindor (or Nicci Lonsen, as her alias) was set up by Dumbledore to begin school in the third year; the same year as young Harry Potter.

One of the ghosts sighed. "Remember when you, me, and Nicci used to fantasize about what Hogwarts would be like a thousand years in the future? Well, here we are, a thousand years later, and I _still_ wonder how we ever made it."

"Well, Nicci's managed to stay thirteen for a thousand years. Next time, I call being the one who gets a thousand years of non-aging immortality." The other ghost replied, sounding a little disgruntled. His lilting American accent broke the tension, and the two ghosts laughed quietly to themselves.

"I don't think she asked for it, Ben. I don't think any of us expected that she would get a thousand years of immortality by making a blood sacrifice in the middle of the Great Hall." The girl laughed. She remembered the story well. When Alecta was only thirteen, she'd fought off the terrible King of the Dead (a name which none of them had understood, considering he wasn't actually dead, and had no dead subjects or soldiers). She'd known she couldn't win, so she sacrificed herself to save the school, by cutting open her arm, and drawing an ancient seal with her own blood. She'd died, of course; the 'King' had hit her with a Killing Curse seconds after she'd finished the seal.

"It was a terrible day when she died. I thought nothing would be right again," said the boy named Ben.

"How would you know?" the girl asked incredulously. "You died before her!"

"And you died twenty minutes after her!"

"Well, I suppose she never really died," said the girl thoughtfully. "She was gaining immortality and all that."

"Very true."

"We need to stop chatting, and find Professor Dumbledore, Ben," the girl said seriously.

"There is no point in trying to find someone if they're already here," a voice said quietly. "Hello Hailey, Ben."

"Professor, you know about Alecta — I mean, Nicci — about…She _did_ tell you, right? About her little secret?"

"Of course, Miss Hufflepuff," said Dumbledore. "Miss Lonsen has been very clear about the subject. She has told me everything I think necessary to know."

"So she _will_ be a third year?"

"I see no reason to a person who knows more about magic then our entire staff put together behind two years. So yes, she will be a third year. Alongside Mr. Potter, in fact."

"Professor, did she say that she won't _actually_ start aging again until next year? June 21st, in fact. That's when the immortality will break and she'll age just like any normal human being."

"I see she neglected to tell me this. But she'll remain thirteen? She won't turn into an old woman and crumble into dust?"

"Oh, no sir. She'll start aging gradually, just like any other human."

"Very good." Dumbledore smiled. "Well, does she have robes and such?"

"We'll get her to go to Diagon Alley before the school year."

Dumbledore turned and walked away. When he had completely disappeared, the two ghosts floated off. As they were walking away, Hailey asked, "Why did we have to name her Nicci this time? It doesn't go very well with Alecta."

Because we named her Alexis 20 years ago and Ally 50 years ago for the two seperate years before she 'mysteriously vanished'."

"Right. Dammit."


	2. Chapter 1: In Diagon Alley

**Chapter 1: In Diagon Alley**

**Alecta:**

I was feeling extremely annoyed by the time I had nearly finished all my "school shopping." Sure, it was what my two closest friends wanted, and yes, it was what the Council (the group of people who had originally given me the immortality) wanted, but I could've passed any N.E.W.T. thrown at me, for crying out loud. Personally, I saw no reason to go back to Hogwarts, except for maybe the problem of the immortality spell ending.

But I argued the point anyway. Nothing ever felt done until I had argued it with _someone_. Even if they had been dead for a thousand years. Finally, the two ghosts told me that if I didn't stop they'd make sure I didn't live to get on the Hogwarts Express.

I told them that a) I had a year left of immortality, so they _couldn't_ kill me, and b) I didn't want to get on the Hogwarts Express anyway, because then I'd _have_ to go to Hogwarts. Unless I snuck out. Hmm…

I walked into Flourish and Blotts, not even paying attention to the boy in front of me. I noticed the manager walking over to the _Monster Book of Monsters_, and followed suit.

"Hang on," said the boy. He had messy black hair, and looked surprisingly familiar. "I've already got one of those."

"But I haven't," I broke in, pushing to stand with the boy. He was a few inches taller than me. Where _had_ I seen him before?

The manager's look of relief slid off his face. "Really?" He looked so bad, I felt sorry for him.

"Here, I'll get it," I said, striding over to the cage. I'd worked with those kinds of books before. I opened the door to the cage and stroked its' spine. It immediately calmed down, and I picked it up like a normal book and closed the door. I walked back over to the manager and the boy, who were both staring at me like I had dropped from the sky.

"Hello? Are you alright?" I asked, waving my hand in front of their faces.

"How — did — you — do — that?" The manager looked incredulous.

"Just stroke their spines," I grinned at them. "Like this." I demonstrated.

"Just…stroke their spines?" The manager looked at me as if he was seeing me in a whole new light. There were a few moments of awkward silence.

"So, I also need _Unfogging the Future_ by Cassandra Vablatsky."

"Oh! I need that too," said the boy. I looked at him and _finally_ recognized him. It was Harry Potter, James and Lily Potter's son. The Boy-Who-Lived and all that.

Honestly, I knew what it was like to be an unwanted superhero. It was lonely and boring and often hurtful.

"I feel bad for you," I commented as we waited for the manager to get our books. "Isn't it awful being the superhero?"

He looked at me in surprise. "Well, sometimes, I guess." I think I'd shocked him into answering honestly. "I suppose it's hard to deal with sometimes, but it's always worth it."

"I'm Nicci Lonsen," I said. "I think I'm going to be in your year at Hogwarts."

"You're going to Hogwarts?"

"No, I just bought _The Monster Book of Monsters_ so I'd have something to read before I went to bed. And reading about signs of the future is fascinating too," I snickered, rolling my eyes. He started laughing with me.

"I got tested by all the teachers at Hogwarts to see if I was capable of third year material. And I passed," I stated obviously.

The manager returned. "Here you two are. _Unfogging the Future._ Very good guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods—palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails—"

I noticed that Harry wasn't listening. He was looking at a book, that, as I craned my neck to see, was called _Death Omens: What to Do When_—

"Oh, I wouldn't read that if I were you," the manager was saying to Harry. "You'll start seeing death omens everywhere…"

On the front of the cover, the picture was a big, black dog, with almost a bear-like quality to him. "Hey," I said, remembering something from my week and a half in Azkaban. "That looks like…" _Sirius._ Oh my gosh, Sirius! Hadn't he escaped from Azkaban a week or two ago? He was a friend of mine, but I knew if I said anything, I'd be dead. Harry looked at me curiously, so I said, "Oh. Never mind."

"Anything else you two need?"

Partly to distract myself from Harry's stare, I said, "Yeah, we need _Intermediate Transfiguration _and _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3._"

Ten minutes later, I was walking out of Flourish and Blotts, talking to Harry about Hogwarts and his friends and Quidditch and classes.

"I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron," I told him. "How about you?"

"Same," he said tiredly.

"Really?" I looked him over. "You know, you should get some sleep or something. You look like…well, let's just say you look pretty sleep deprived."

Harry laughed again. "Thanks, Nicci. Just what I needed."

"Seriously Harry, you've been looking like that ever since you were in Flourish and Blotts and you're starting to creep me out."

He smirked. "You know, you sound like we've known each other for months instead of minutes. And it's surprisingly comforting."

"I know. I've always had that kind of effect on people. I'm like a personal spilling-out-secrets potion."

This time we both laughed. "I'm going to have to watch out for you at Hogwarts," said Harry.

"Not likely. I'm completely irresistible," I snickered.

Harry rolled his eyes.

The next few days slipped by quickly. I spent most of my time with Harry, walking around Diagon Alley. We looked at the _Firebolt_, a kind of broomstick all the boys were fawning over. I could have bought it easy; my father had left me an endless fortune of money and priceless artifacts and books full of old and powerful spells, but it looked so pointless. It was really just a broomstick.

Easily the most awkward part was when Harry attempted to introduce me to his friends. Some boys called Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas at the Quidditch place and a boy named Neville Longbottom. I knew the story of Neville's parents, so I tried to be extremely kind to him. But all three boys stared at me the entire time and stammered out reasons to get away.

"What am I doing wrong?" I asked Harry in frustration as Neville ran away from us.

"I don't know. Maybe they think you're pretty or something." He turned to examine some Seeker's gloves.

Was I pretty? Sure, I was pretty slender, and I had a form and not a stick figure. I supposed my face was pretty enough; pale and thin, but still open and excited. And my eyes were a pretty shade of turquoise. And my silky black hair that fell to my stomach was curly and kind of nice.

Oh. Maybe I _was_ pretty. Well, whatever; I didn't really care, and obviously, neither did Harry.

I put the thought out of my mind, and literally dragged Harry away from the Quidditch store.

I woke on the last day of holidays and quickly packed up all of my things. I probably wouldn't have time later, so why not do it now?

I met Harry at breakfast, and we talked about Hermione and Ron, Harry's best friends, who apparently couldn't be found anywhere. We searched the streets for an hour before Harry saw the _Firebolt_ and stared at it until I threatened to hex him. So we walked back to the Leaky Cauldron and argued over whether Dean or Seamus had looked more longingly at the broomstick for at least five minutes before I ended it by saying "Well, you were worse than both of them, so it doesn't really matter, does it?"

Harry scowled at me and I laughed. It wasn't until I finally stopped laughing that we heard someone calling Harry's name.

"Harry! HARRY!"

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were sitting in front of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, and suddenly, I felt like going back to the Leaky Cauldron. I'd rather have been anywhere but here, where I seemed to be intruding.

"Er, see you back at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry."

"What? No, you're coming."

"I'm sure they want to spend some time with you without me there, Harry. They don't even know me," I had never been nervous about these sorts of things; it was just that I felt like I was intruding on something private.

"Nicci, you're coming. I don't care if I have to drag you by the hair, like you did with me."

I pulled my long ponytail away from him. "Fine. But if they don't like me, I am holding you personally responsible."

"You'll hold me responsible even if they _do_ like you," Harry muttered.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Alright, I'm going!"

I stalked over to them, all the while shooting murderous glares at Harry, who was trying (and failing miserably, I might add) not to laugh.

"Finally!" said Ron, as Harry sat down. I sat down next to him, in between Harry and Hermione. "Er—who's this?"

"Nicci Lonsen," I said brightly. "I'm starting Hogwarts tomorrow as a third year."

"You're _skipping_ two years of school?" Hermione looked scandalized.

"Well, I was tested in every subject I'll be taking this year, and I got full marks on every one, so they decided to let me in. But I _am_ thirteen," I added hastily.

"Oh," said Hermione. "Full marks? On every one?"

"Yes," I said impatiently.

Hermione had a quill and parchment at the ready before I could blink. "What were your study habits? How long did you study for? If in doubt between two books on the same subject, which book do you choose?"

Harry and Ron threw me sympathetic looks. "Er, well…" I thought back to when I took those passing exams. "I really…didn't study at all, Hermione," I said. "I knew all that stuff. It was like second nature, I guess. I know too much about magic to have a problem with tests like that."

"_How_? I studied for _weeks_…"

"I don't know. Comes from having too many ghosts and portraits as friends. I haven't had a human friend in a year and a half."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione gasped. "_What_? But which ghosts? I don't know any ghosts that don't live at Hogwarts."

"Two ghost friends of mine were at Hogwarts last year. I think you saw them; their names are Hailey and Benjamin."

Hermione looked excited. "What's it like having ghosts as friends?"

"Don't know. Helped with the History of Magic parts though. As for the Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Defense Against the Dart Arts…well…" I knew perfectly well why I knew the spells. I'd been practicing half of them for nearly five hundred years. But I couldn't say that, so I said, "I learn fast. I usually need an hour to learn a spell, so I just spend about a day learning them." This was somewhat true, at least.

"That's not fair," muttered Ron. "Why do girls get all the talent?"

"Because we apply ourselves," I said at the same time as Hermione, who said, "Because you don't _try_, Ronald."

I laughed.

Ron ignored me and said, "So where were you this morning? We went to the Leaky Cauldron, but they said you'd left, and we went to Flourish and Blotts, and Madam Malkins, and—"

"I got all my school stuff last week," Harry explained. "And how come you knew I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Dad," Ron said.

"Excuse me?" I asked curiously. "How is your father involved in this? He's not the Ministry of Magic, is he?" My eyes widened in horror. "Because if he is, then I'm really sorry—"

"No, he's no the Minister," said Ron, flushing scarlet. "And why are you sorry?"

"Oh, well…" I stalled, playing with my hair. "Three years ago, I was part of a group that tried kill Lucius Malfoy," I said. "Unfortunately, we didn't actually kill him. On the way, however, I cursed three Ministry officials." I sniggered.

"You _cursed_…but you were ten! How did you know curses?" Hermione practically shrieked. "Who taught you _curses_?"

"I taught myself," I said calmly. "But I stayed behind and got caught. Cornelius put me in Azkaban." Of course, I'd really been in my non-aging thirteen state, but I'd Transfigured myself to look like I was ten.

"_What?_" Ron and Hermione cried together. Harry looked a bit confused.

I snorted. "Well, I did the most damaging thing I could. See, my father had always been good at training dragons. So—"

"_It was you?_" Ron jumped out of his seat. "The Ministry declared it was an extremely old, dark, powerful wizard!"

"I know," I laughed. " I set dragons on them. Four of them, in fact. So, after about two weeks, the Ministry came running to me and told me they'd release me if I'd let up on the dragons. I agreed, but as we were leaving Azkaban, I used a skill that a friend of mine insisted I learn. I stunned the Aurors without a wand."

Hermione gasped. "But that's—that's _really_ advanced magic."

"I can only do the one spell," I said ruefully, "and it took me a week of continuous practice to do it. Anyway, I returned after a month, and demanded my wand back in exchange for the dragons leaving. They'd been saving it as a bargaining chip."

"That's amazing Nicci!" Ron said. "But why'd you apologize?"

"Well, my favorite dragon, Espen, left a huge scar on the Minister." I winced. "He was in the hospital for a few weeks after that one."

Silence.

**Harry:**

I reeled at Nicci's story. But she didn't seem to have been affected by Azkaban at all. In fact, if she hadn't told us, I never would have guessed. But dragons? Just who was Nicci Lonsen?

"What about your parents? What did your parents do?" Hermione asked.

"My parents?" Nicci looked thoughtful. "Well, my mother's been dead since I was eight and my dad's been dead for three and a half years, so I doubt they could do much."

Hermione looked horrified. "I'm so sorry—"

"Don't," said Nicci, smiling. "I've never been the teary type. I've gotten over it, and I really don't need pity."

"Sorry," said Hermione. Then she looked as though she had remembered something. "Harry, did you _really_ blow up your aunt?"

"I didn't mean to," I said, as Ron roared with laughter and Nicci looked surprised and then amused. "I just—lost control."

"It's not funny, Ron," said Hermione sharply. "Stop smirking Nicci. Honestly, I'm amazed Harry wasn't expelled."

"So am I," I admitted. "Forget expelled, I thought I was going to be arrested. Your dad doesn't know why they let me off, does he?"

"Probably 'cause it's you, isn't it?" shrugged Ron, still laughing. "Famous Harry Potter and all that…I'd hate to see what the Ministry'd do to me if I blew up my aunt. Mind you, they'd have to dig e up first, because Mum would've killed me. Anyway, you can ask Dad yourself this evening. We're staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight too! So you two—" He nodded at Nicci, "—can come with us to King's Cross tomorrow! Hermione's there as well!"

Hermione nodded, beaming. Nicci looked a little less optimistic. "Er, did Mr. Weasley get badly hurt by the dragons? 'Cause if he did, I'm pretty sure I'm not—"

"He didn't," said Ron. "He was left alone. Course, he was against you being sent to Azkaban in the first place. Thought they were fascinating, anyway."

"Excellent!" I said happily. "So, have you got all your new books and stuff?"

"Look at this," said Ron, pulling out a box. "Brand-new wand. Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn hair."

"Ron, what happened to your last one?" Nicci looked a bit apprehensive.

"Broke when we drove a flying car into the Whomping Willow."

"The Whomping Willow? Why on earth were you driving a car into the _Whomping Willow_?"

"How d'you know about the Whomping Willow?"

"Sirius Black told me about it," Nicci shrugged.

The reaction was instantaneous. "How do you know Sirius Black?" I demanded, while Ron and Hermione both looked at Nicci like she was poisonous and backed away.

"I was in the cell next to him in Azkaban three years ago," said Nicci, looking confused. I relaxed, and Ron and Hermione scooted their chairs back over to her. There was a long pause.

"How about those _Monster Books_, eh? The assistant nearly cried when we said we wanted two," said Ron.

"What's all that, Hermione?" I asked, pointing at not one, but three bulging bags in the chair on the other side of her.

"Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I?" said Hermione. "These are my books for Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Study of Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies—"

"What are you taking Muggle Studies for?" Ron asked. "You're Muggle-born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You know all about Muggles!"

"You're Muggle-born?" Nicci asked in interest. She muttered something indistinguishable. (**A/N:** For any of you who are interested, she said "Salazar Slytherin really _was_ an idiot.")

"But it'll be fascinating to study them from the wizarding point of view," said Hermione earnestly.

**Alecta: **

"Are you planning to eat of sleep at all this year, Hermione?" asked Harry, while Ron sniggered. Hermione effectively ignored them.

"I've still got ten galleons," she said, checking her purse. "My birthday's in September and I think I'll get myself an early birthday present."

"How about a _book_?" asked Ron innocently.

I glared at him.

"No, I don't think so," said Hermione. "I really want an owl. I mean, Harry's got Hedwig and you've got Errol—Do you have an animal, Nicci?"

I smiled mischievously. "Ghosts may be terrible company, but they get amazing presents." I called, "Thaniel!"

Almost immediately the large, black puppy came bounding out of nowhere. "Thaniel; owl."

The air seemed to bend around Thaniel and he started to mist over until—_pop_! A fierce, black owl was flying where the dog had once stood.

Hermione drew in a gasp. "They got you a _shape-shifter_ for your birthday?"

I nodded.

Ron's jaw dropped. "_Wow_, Nicci! And Hermione," he said, tearing his gaze away from the owl, "Errol isn't mine. He's a _family_ owl." He pulled a rat out from his pocket. "I've got Scabbers. And I want him checked over. I don't think Egypt agreed with him."

I looked at the rat. To be honest, it looked like crap. It was pale and thin and really ugly. It was drooping and slightly yellow. "Oh. Lovely," I choked out.

"There's a magical creature shop just over there," said Harry. We had gone there just a day before.

"Nicci! Do you think you could help me pick out an owl?" Hermione asked earnestly as we paid and left for the Magical Menagerie.

"Sure," I said. "What kind of owl do you want?"

"I don't know, but a tawny owl sounds strong, and…"

We kept this up as we walked into the store. It looked exactly the same as it had yesterday. So Hermione and I set off to the owl section as Harry and Ron walked up to the register.

"Oh, that's an adorable owl," sighed Hermione, pointing to a sleek, light-brown owl.

"It's also twenty-five galleons," I said, nodding at the sign.

We walked around a few more minutes with Hermione muttering "Oh, that's pretty!" and "Poor thing…" before there was a commotion out front. I peeked around the corner to see Harry and Ron rushing out of the store, chasing after Ron's rat.

"What on earth…?"

"Oh, what a gorgeous cat!" Hermione rushed to the witch at the front, looking at the enormous ginger cat she was holding. "What's his name?"

"Hm? Oh, Crookshanks," the witch said. "He's ten galleons. He's been here forever, poor dear. Nobody wanted him."

Hermione was beaming. "Oh, I'll take him. He's so adorable."

I thought this was really a matter of opinion, but Hermione wanted him and so she could get him.

We left three minutes later to find Ron and Harry waiting outside the shop. Hermione was practically glowing, while I felt a bit pessimistic about the relationship between Crookshanks and Scabbers.

"You _bought_ that monster?" Ah. There was the fight I was waiting for. Ron was standing there with his mouth hanging open. I scooted to the other side of Harry.

"He's _georgeous_, isn't he?" Hermione was still glowing.

"Two Sickles Crookshanks saves our lives once this year," I muttered to Harry.

Harry grinned. "You're on." We shook and I drifted in and out of the argument. What was I going to say to Mr. Weasley? What would he say? Would he be furious at me? Or would he have forgotten me?

"I wonder why," Ron was saying sarcastically as we reached the Leaky Cauldron.

Mr. Weasley was sitting the bar, reading the _Daily Prophet_. I shifted so I was nearly obscured by Harry and Hermione.

"Harry! How are you?" he said, looking up from the paper. "Who's that you've got with you, Harry, Hermione?"

Harry, Hermione, and Ron turned to look at me. Hermione muttered "Go!" and shoved me forward.

"Er, hi Mr. Weasley," I said, feeling very awkward. "Long time, no see."

"Merlin's beard!" he breathed. "Nicci Lonsen! It's been years! How've you been? What're you doing in the Leaky Cauldron?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Weasley," I said. "And I'm going to Hogwarts tomorrow."

"Hogwarts? Really? Without your first two years?"

"I was tested by the professors and they think I can handle it."

"Really," said Mr. Weasley, putting down his paper. I saw the picture of Sirius Black staring up at me, laughing manically.

"They still haven't caught him, then?" Harry asked.

"No," said Mr. Weasley, looking extremely grave. "They've pulled us off our regular jobs to try and find him, but no luck so far."

"And you're not going to _have_ any luck because you don't know the first thing about him," I said unexpectedly. "It's like trying to find a needle in a haystack because you don't know what he looks like, what he's doing, how he's getting where he's going, and who his allies are."

Mr. Weasley, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all stared at me.

At that moment, five new people entered the bar. Mr. Weasley's wife was easy to spot, laden down with shopping bags. Behind her strode a pompous-looking seventeen-year-old, two identical twins who seemed to be mocking the other boy's steps, and a girl, who looked to be about a year younger than me.

"Nicci, this is my wife, Molly Weasley. And these are my children; Percy," the seventeen-year-old, "Fred and George," the two twins swept their imaginary hats off their heads and bowed low, "and Ginny." The girl smiled.

"Who's this, Dad?" One of the twins asked.

"Nicci Lonsen," said Mr. Weasley.

Ginny was blushing; she seemed to be very taken with Harry. She murmured a quiet "hello" while looking at the floor. The boy Percy took Harry's hand and said "I hope you're well?" in a very professional, condescending tone. It felt like Harry was being introduced to a mayor.

Fred and George elbowed back Percy and took Harry's hand. "Harry!" Fred was saying, pushing to the front, "Simply _splendid_ to see you, old boy…"

"Marvelous," cried George, seizing Harry's hand. "Absolutely spiffing."

Percy scowled at Fred and George, then turned to me as I bit my hand to keep from laughing.

"That's enough," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum!" said Fred, looking as though he'd just seen her. "How really _corking _to see you…"

"Fred, that's _enough_."

"Where've I heard your name before?" Percy was asking me.

"Have you ever been in the Ministry?" I replied.

"Well yes, I'm hoping to get a job there," Percy said.

I laughed lightly. "Then you've heard my name before. They probably use as a curse word or something…Wonder what they'd say if they found I was "contaminating" Hogwarts…"

Mr. Weasley looked anxious. "They don't _all_ hate you," he said. "Most of them think what Fudge did to you was cruel."

"Someone doing something cruel to me," I said sarcastically. "There's a new one."

"He just hates that he lost support because of what he did to you," said Mrs. Weasley comfortingly.

"No, he hates that I overpowered two Aurors and fifty Dementors when I was ten _without a wand_. Ah, well, I don't give a damn what he thinks."

_Pop!_ "You didn't tell me _that_!" came a voice out of the blue

I hit myself in the head with the closest book I could find. I knew that voice. Hailey.

"Ooh, Nicci, you're gonna have a real job on your hands. Who knew going to school could be so stressful?"

"Go die, Hailey."

"Been there, done that." Ben's voice joined her.

I spun around. "Are you here simply to mock me? Because I'm not in the mood to put up with your _crap_."

"Ouch. You know, Hailey, I think she might actually hate us this time."

"Doubt it. She should be used to it by now."

I looked at the Weasleys, Ron, and Hermione. They were all staring at the ghosts in fascination. "You guys, these are two friends of mine. This is Hailey and this is Ben."

"Wow!" Hermione's excited voice said. "You weren't kidding. They're incredible."

"Smart girl."

"_Leave_." My voice was clear.

"But the party's just started!" Ben sounded mockingly excited.

I grabbed a dagger from under my shirt and threw it at Ben. It went precisely through the spot where he'd been stabbed and he gasped in pain.

"You know, Nicci, I _hate_ it when you do that."

"I know," I said cheerfully, sitting down. "That's why I do it."

"Alright, alright, we're leaving!"

"Good-bye."

"Wait!" I swiveled in my chair to look at her and she glided over. "Dementors," Hailey muttered to me so no one else could hear. "Guarding the school from Sirius Black. I know he's innocent, and you know he's innocent, but you've got to help him. He's coming to Hogwarts for Pettigrew."

"But he's—"

"Been Ron's rat as an Animagus for twelve years. Black's coming to kill him."

"_What?_" I shrieked, falling off the chair.

"See you, Nicci," said Hailey. "Let's go, Ben."

They disappeared.

"What was _that_ about?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"It was a warning," I said. "They were telling me something important." Another silence. There seemed to be a lot of those when I was around.

Mr. Weasley broke the silence. "Harry, have you seen Percy's badge? Second Head-Boy in the family."

"And the last," muttered Fred.

"I don't doubt that," said Mrs. Weasley, frowning. "I see they haven't made you prefects."

"What do we want to be prefects for?" said George, looking revolted. "It'd take all the fun out of life."

Ginny and I laughed.

"You want to set a better example for your sister!" snapped Mrs. Weasley, looking very scary.

"Ginny's got other brothers to set an example, Mother," said Percy loftily. "I'm going up to change for dinner…"

He disappeared up the stairs. George let out a sigh.

"We tried to lock him in a pyramid, but Mum saw us."

"I think I'd rather have Ginny be like you two than _him_," I said, looking slightly revolted.


	3. Chapter 2: Aboard the Hogwarts Express

**Chapter 2: Aboard the Hogwarts Express**

**Alecta:**

Dinner flew by at an enjoyable pace; Harry, Hermione, and I sat with the Weasleys as we managed to eat through 5 courses of entirely too much food. I sat next to the girl Ginny and the twin George.

"How're we getting to King's Cross tomorrow, Dad?" asked Fred as we dug into dessert.

"The Ministry's provided a couple of cars," said Mr. Weasley. I stiffened. Looked like I was finding my own means of transportation.

"Why?" asked Percy.

"It's because of you, Perce," said George seriously, from beside me. "And there'll be little flags on the hoods, with HB on them—"

"—for Humongous Bighead," Fred finished.

I snorted into my pudding, and I noticed everyone around me too; except Percy and Mrs. Weasley.

"Why's the Ministry providing cars?" asked Percy again. I decided Percy was extremely obtuse; it was obvious it was because of Sirius Black and Harry.

"Well, we haven't got one anymore—" said Mr. Weasley, flushing red. He muttered something like, "Doing me a favor—Work there and everything." He turned to me; I didn't know how he could see me, as I was almost hidden by George. "Don't suppose you're coming with us, then?"

I shook my head. "I'll take my chances, thanks," I said. Percy, Fred, George, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley looked at me curiously.

"It's been three years, Nicci," said Mr. Weasley. "I'm sure they won't even remember you."

I looked at him skeptically. He flushed a deeper red under my stare.

"What's going on between Nicci and the Ministry?" George asked.

Ron jumped up. "Guess what we learned today? It was _Nicci_ who set the dragons on the Ministry! Not some dark, old wizard! It was a ten-year-old!"

Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "_You_ were the witch who was sent to Azkaban? They_ sent _a_ ten-year-old _to_ Azkaban_?"

"Really, it wasn't that bad—" I started to say, but Mrs. Weasley was already hugging me. "Oh, you poor dear! What did your parents say to the Ministry?"

"Er, my parents are dead, Mrs. Weasley." I pulled myself away and sat down again. The entire table was staring at me. "My mum since I was eight; my dad when I was ten."

"Wait a minute; you set four dragons on the Ministry of Magic?" asked Percy. "Why? Were you _trying_ to overthrow the Ministry?"

"Yes, that was my ambition when I was ten; to become Minister of Magic," I said dryly. "Actually, I cursed a ministry official. He was in St. Mungo's for—what, four months?"

Mr. Weasley nodded gravely. "You curse very effectively."

"Brilliant!" exclaimed George. "Wait 'til I tell everyone we've got an escaped Ministry convict for a friend!"

"You'll do no such thing!" cried Mrs. Weasley.

"All right, all right, Mum! Well, maybe she can help you find Sirius Black!" cried Fred, trying to escape her wrath.

"_I'll_ do no such thing," I said, pressing my lips together.

"Why? Don't you want him caught?"

I didn't answer, as the honest answer was "no." I trusted Hailey absolutely, even if we didn't get along all the time. She said Sirius was innocent and he was after Pettigrew, and I believed her. I had no idea how or why, but if Hailey'd wanted me to know and not have to find out she wouldn't have told me. I was one of maybe three or four people who knew Sirius was an Animagus; I imagined this was why Hailey'd warned me about Sirius being innocent.

"Well, it's a good thing the Ministry's lending cars," said Mrs. Weasley, changing the subject. "Do you realize how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground…You are all packed, aren't you?"

"Ron hasn't put his new things in his trunk yet," said Percy in a long-suffering, pathetic voice. "He's dumped them on my bed."

I idly wondered how Percy was ever going to get a girlfriend, let alone a wife, if he kept on talking like that. Ron glared at Percy.

In twos and threes, everyone left from the table to go up and finish packing for tomorrow. I walked with Ginny and Hermione, while Ron and Harry and Fred and George left together. Percy stalked up to his room, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were left talking quietly.

Ginny was next door to me, so we said good-bye to Hermione and walked down the long, dark hallway.

"Did you really set dragons on the Ministry?"

Ginny's question took me by surprise, and so I was a bit slow on the uptake. I hadn't even heard her talk before. "Er, well, yeah," I said to her. "I did. And sometimes I regret it."

"Is it hard? Are you always on the run?"

"No," I laughed. "At least that been interesting. I think they've blotted me out of their records. You know, like they've forgotten about me. Doesn't really bother me."

"What's it like to be in Azkaban?"

"Dark. Cold. Depressing. And surprisingly eye-opening. What's it like to be in Hogwarts?"

"I don't know. I didn't exactly have a good first year."

"Why not? I always thought Hogwarts was an amazing place to be."

"It is, but I—" She lowered her voice and took a deep breath. "—I was controlled by Tom Riddle's diary. I Petrified a cat, and Hermione, and—and some other Hogwarts students with—"

"The Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets?" I knew that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened from Hailey and Ben, and even if they hadn't told me, I would've guessed. I'd had my own battle with the Basilisk for the life of my mother. I could've killed it—I _would've_ killed it—but something inside me kept on saying, _Leave it, Alecta. This is not your monster to kill. This is someone else's destiny._

"How did you know?" Ginny sounded shocked.

"Er, Hailey and Ben," I said. "Tom Riddle? You mean, Voldemort?"

Ginny nodded; she had started to cry. "I didn't mean to, I swear, but he possessed me. I didn't know—I didn't…"

"Alright, Ginny, it's alright. No one blames you," I said soothingly. I ushered her inside my room and sat her on my bed. "What happened?"

"Harry!" she sobbed.

"Harry?" I asked in confusion.

"No…" She calmed herself with obvious effort. "Riddle made me write my own death note and made me go into the Chamber of Secrets. And he started sucking out my soul—"

"Your soul?"

She nodded. "He said he was going to use my soul to bring himself back to life. And then Harry was there…everything seemed to have gone black…"

"Ginny, if Riddle used your soul to bring himself to life, what would have happened to you?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"I would've died," she sobbed. "But then I woke up. And the Basilisk was dead, and Riddle was gone, and Harry was kneeling next to me holding the diary."

"Oh," I said, finally understanding what had happened. "So Harry saved your life, did he? _That's_ why you were looking at him like that."

"Like what? Did I look like a fool? Did I seem like a love-obsessed fan?"

"No," I said lightly. "If anyone saved my life, I'd probably look similar." A sudden thought struck me. "Ginny, you fancy Harry, don't you?"

"Well, not really," she said. "Just, you know, enough to be embarrassing."

I laughed. "Well, maybe."

"Nicci!"

"I'm joking. I'm sure you're not _that_ bad."

"Thanks," said Ginny sourly. "That's a load of help."

"Are you mad at me?" I asked in a falsely hurt voice.

"No," she grinned. "I'm not. See you in the morning, Nicci."

She left the room, closing the door behind her. I threw myself on my bed. So, by listening to that internal voice, I'd mentally scarred Ginny for life. This was a girl I planned on being friends with. I liked her a lot; and I bet that if she acted around Harry the way she did around me, Harry would have a lot more to tell me about her than that she was Ron's younger sister, she was nice, and that she seemed to avoid him. Boys could be extraordinarily dense sometimes.

I woke the next morning to the sounds of a shouting match. One voice was Ginny, and the other sounded like Fred or George. Yawning, I pulled on a shirt and a pair of denim shorts. I walked over to Ginny's room and threw open the door. George and Ginny were standing in the room yelling at each other.

"What are you _doing_? I was trying to sleep!" I glared at both of them. Each muttered "sorry" and George stomped out of the room.

"'Morning to you too," I said as he elbowed past me. "What happened, Ginny?"

"Nothing," she said. "Nicci, can you help me finish packing?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," I told her. We flew through the room, picking up books and clothes and magic tools, stopping to talk about Hogwarts and Quidditch and all the teachers.

When we finally got down to breakfast, Ginny walked over to see Mrs. Weasley and Hermione and I put my head on the table in an attempt to sleep. Of course, five minutes later, Ron and Harry walked in, and I went over to join them.

"Nicci, I hope you realize that it'd be much simpler to just come in the car with us," Mr. Weasley said, when he cornered me ten minutes after breakfast.

He had a point. "Fine," I said. "But I'm disguising myself."

"Alright." Mr. Weasley seemed to be happy that I had agreed to come at all. He walked off, and I pointed my wand at myself and quickly changed my appearance to one I'd seen in Hogwarts last year, when I'd been going to my Transfiguration test.

A minute later, an exact replica of Lavender Brown strode out from the bathrooms. Hermione gasped. "Lavender? But—I thought you were on vacation in Italy! And were coming directly from the airport to King's Cross! What are you doing in the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Is _that_ who this is?" I asked. "Hm. I thought she looked more like a Rose myself, but I guess that's her."

"_Nicci_?"

I nodded cheerfully. "I told Mr. Weasley I'd come in the Ministry cars if I disguised myself. So I disguised myself."

"That's really advanced magic, Nicci. Where'd you learn it?"

"Just picked it up somewhere. I dunno."

The trip to King's Cross was entirely uneventful. We got out of the cars and stared at the Platform 9 3/4. Harry and Mr. Weasley went first, Ginny and Percy went next, and then Hermione and I walked through the barrier.

And then we were standing in the huge, crowded, platform with the Hogwarts Express right smack in the middle of it. I'd forgotten how beautiful the Hogwarts Express was; I'd even forgotten how beautiful Hogwarts was.

Mr. Weasley pulled Harry aside to talk to him and Mrs. Weasley shepherded the rest of us on the train. Ron, Hermione, and I waited just inside the train. Guards were coming around to check the doors and close them.

"Come _on_, Harry!" I yelled.

"Arthur, quickly!" cried Mrs. Weasley.

The train was starting to move. Harry ran to the door, Ron threw it open, and Harry clambered on as quickly as he could. Hermione and I leaned out the window and waved to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley; after a moment, Harry and Ron joined us.

"I need to talk to you in private," Harry said. Ginny and I started to walk away, when Harry said, "Wait Nicci, you too."

"Go away, Ginny," said Ron.

"Oh, that's nice," huffed Ginny. She stalked away.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I walked down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but they were all full, except for one with—Lupin. Remus Lupin. James Potter's best friend. _Dammit_.

From Harry, Ron, and Hermione's expressions, they didn't know who Lupin was. "Who d'you reckon he is?" Ron hissed.

"Professor R. J. Lupin," Hermione answered. I stared at her in panic. Did she know him?

"How d'you know that?"

"It's on his suitcase," she said, and I relaxed. She didn't know him. See, it was imperative that I saw Dumbledore before anyone met Lupin. Because about fourteen years ago, I wasn't careful, and Lily and James saw me. And they knew me. When I'd been the same exact age six years before.

So of course they'd demanded an explanation. And Dumbledore and I'd had no choice but to tell them. So three humans knew my secret. And then Voldemort killed them; I'd taken that hard.

But I didn't know if James and Lily had told either Sirius or Remus who I was. Which was why I had to get to Dumbledore and ask.

"Wonder what he teaches?" asked Ron.

Wait a second. _Lupin_. Oh dear. Wasn't he a werewolf? The reason why Potter, Black, and Pettigrew became Animagus. What was Dumbledore _thinking_?

"…looks like one good would finish him off, doesn't he?"

I snorted. "You'd be surprised."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked surprised. "Do you know him?" asked Hermione.

"Vaguely," I lied. "Anyway…what did you want to tell us?"

Harry began explaining about a fight he'd overheard between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They'd been talking about how Sirius Black was looking for him, and quarrelling over whether to tell Harry or not. He then went on to explain how Mr. Weasley had given him a warning not to go looking for Sirius Black, no matter what he heard. When he was finished, Ron looked like he'd been given an electric shock, and Hermione looked terrified, with her hands on her mouth. I remained decidedly impassive. I knew they were wrong, and I'd been in Azkaban a few weeks ago, under an invisibility cloak. The dementors knew I was there, but they also knew who I was, so they steered clear of me.

I'd heard Sirius talking in his sleep, and he _had_ been muttering "He's at Hogwarts." But Sirius had showed me an article of Scabbers (or Pettigrew), which paired now with what _Hailey_ had been saying about Pettigrew becoming a rat for twelve years. It all made sense! And of course a Ministry official would hear what Fudge wanted everyone to hear, and to be perfectly honest, Sirius hadn't been the most believable person I'd ever met. So of course they wouldn't believe him…

As I did this, I decided never to dig deep into my thoughts again. It was way too confusing, and mentally painful.

"How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?"

"Who? What nutter? Who wants to kill Harry _now_?" I voiced my confusion. I'd missed half the conversation in my mental shuffling of information.

"Sirius _Black_," Ron said to me, looking a bit concerned. "No one knows how he got out of Azkaban. No one's ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner too."

"Was he really?" I asked. I'd found it perfectly easy to get to him.

"But they'll catch him, won't they?" asked Hermione. "I mean, they've got Muggles looking—"

"They won't find him," I told them. "Not until he wants to be found. Azkaban hardens people. Gives you skills you never even had. Even if you're only in Azkaban for a short time, you're never _really_ the same again. And you learn to be friends much quicker if you're in Azkaban."

"What's that noise?" asked Ron suddenly.

A tiny, faint noise was coming from somewhere in the compartment. We looked everywhere for it, until I realized where it was coming from. "Harry, it's coming from your trunk."

Ron stood up and reached into the luggage rack. He pulled out a Sneakoscope, which was spinning and glowing brilliantly.

"A Pocket Sneakoscope? Where'd you get it, Harry?" I asked.

"I got it for his birthday," said Ron. "Mind you, it's a cheap one. It went haywire when I was tying it to Errol's leg."

"Were you doing something untrustworthy?" Hermione asked him.

"No! Well, I wasn't supposed to be using Errol. Not really up to long journeys…but how else was I supposed to get Harry's present to him?"

"Well, stuff it in something," I said. "I want to get some sleep before Hogwarts. Besides, you'll wake Lupin up."

Ron nodded and stuck the Sneakoscope into a pair of ugly old socks and closed the trunk.

"Thanks," I nodded sleepily. I was suddenly very tired, so I leaned against the window and closed my eyes. Everything went black…

The train jolted to a stop and I jerked awake. I rubbed my eyes and said, "What's going on?"

The lamps went out and everything plunged into darkness. "Harry? Ron? Hermione? You there?"

"We're here," said Hermione. "Ouch, Ron! That was my foot!"

I felt Harry sit down next to me. "D'you think we've broken down?" he asked.

"Dunno…I don't think so," I answered.

I heard a squeaking sound and saw a very dim outline of Ron wiping the window on his sleeve. "There's something moving out there," he said. "I think someone's coming aboard…"

The compartment door suddenly opened.

"Sorry—d'you know what's going on?—Ouch—Sorry—," came a boy's voice.

"Who're you?" I asked.

"Nicci, this is Neville. Friend of ours. Neville, Nicci. New third-year student," said Harry.

"I'm going to go and ask the driver what's going on," said Hermione from somewhere across from me.

I felt her pass me and open the door; there was a thud and two yelps of pain.

"Who's that?"

"Who's _that_?"

"Ginny?" I asked.

"Nicci?"

"Hermione, get back in here. Ginny, sit down," I said, trying to stay calm.

"Not here!" said Harry hurriedly. "I'm here!"

"Sure you don't want her there, Harry?" I asked teasingly. "Ow!" I'd forgotten Harry'd been sitting next to me. He'd caught me in the back of the head.

"Ouch!" said Neville unhelpfully.

"Quiet!" came a hoarse voice.

"Excuse me?" I asked, enraged.

"_Lexi_?" The shock in his voice was plain.

"Who?" Harry.

"There's no Lexi here," said Hermione.

"Lexi who?" asked Neville.

"Alexis Findor?"

"My _mother_?" Oh. That was a really bad move. I'd just pretended I was my own mother. But I looked too much like 'Alexis Findor' (another alias) to pretend I wasn't related to her.

"You're Lexi's daughter?"

"Uh, yeah." This was _weird_. "Nicci Lonsen."

There was a crackling noise, and a small light filled the compartment. Lupin was holding some flames. He looked terrible. "By god, you look exactly like her."

I take that back. That was a really _good_ move.

I cast a glance at our jumbled up seating arrangements. Harry and I were still seated approximately where we'd started. Ginny was sitting in-between us on the floor. Neville was crouching beside the door in a half-sitting position, and Lupin was taking up about a third of the other seat. Hermione and Ron, however, looked hilarious; Hermione must have tripped over Neville on her way back to her seat, and grabbed Ron around the neck, because she was sitting on his lap and her arms were around his neck. Her hair looked mussed up. I burst out laughing, and Harry and Ginny joined me almost immediately.

Hermione gasped and slid off Ron. Ron looked like he was going to die of embarrassment.

"Stay where you are," Lupin said.

And then I smelled them. That terrible smell of death and despair filled my nose and I gagged. "Dementors? _Really_? You'd think they'd have better sense. Terrifying students like this…" I babbled.

"What makes you so sure?" asked Lupin warily.

"I can smell them. Here one comes; wand at the ready, Lupin," I instructed.

The door silently slid open and the flames went out. "Ginny! Over here!" I whispered. She slid up onto the seat, and I stepped in front of her and Harry.

Standing in the doorway was a dementor. Oh, I hated these. They were the worst kind of abominations. A hand popped out of the folds of the cloak, and I nearly gagged. And then the hood came and it drew in a long, shuddering, breath.

Suddenly, the cold and the chill swept over us all. Lupin fell into his seat, staggering. Ginny was crying out, and Harry's eyes were rolling up in his head…

It hadn't been a second. Ginny was shaking like mad and Harry had fainted onto Ginny's shoulder. Hermione, Ron, and Neville were staring, petrified, at nothing.

"_Do not make me kill you_," I said to it. "_Because I will. I will suck everything you have from you and make you pay for what you have done_."

Obviously, it was new, because it didn't move. So I muttered "_Expecto Patronum_!"

A huge silver lion leaped out of my wand and roared at the dementor. It vanished. It bounded out of sight and I knew it was going to check the rest of the train.

"_Lumos Maxima!_" I said. I put my wand on the floor. I moved Ginny to the corner I'd been sitting in, and let Harry lay on the floor at the bottom of the seat.

A huge roar echoed through the train. I sighed, and laughed a little. I knew what that meant. The train was clear.

"Professor? Ron? Hermione? Neville?"

Odd. No response. _Hmm…Does Lupin have any chocolate on him?_ I checked his bag and found a huge bar of it. I broke off a square for each of them, and made them bite it.

"Hmf…" Lupin was the first one to reanimate. He shook his head and stared at me, holding the bar of chocolate and the wand producing light. "Nicci? What?"

"Hello, Professor," I said brightly. "The four of you went into a kind of stupor. I gave you all some chocolate. The train should be moving again soon. The dementors are gone."

As I spoke, the lights went on and the train smoothly started up again. Ginny was agitatedly shaking, Harry was passed out on the floor, and Ron, Hermione, and Neville were still in their stupor.

"Ginny? Are you alright?" I sat down next to her and put my arm around her. I gave her another piece of chocolate. "Here, have this. It'll make you feel better." I left her holding the piece, and muttered, "_Nox_."

"How—how did you—" Lupin started to ask.

"Know what to do?" I stuck my wand in my pocket and started arranging Harry so he'd be more comfortable. When I was finished, I pushed Neville down so he wasn't squatting anymore. "My mother taught me. She thought it was important for me to know how to deal with dementors."

Hermione came around a few seconds later. Like Lupin, she shook her head and looked around. "Did I faint?"

"No," I said to her, "you seemed to be in a kind of stupor. That was a very powerful dementor to do that to you three."

"What's wrong with Ginny? And Harry?"

"Ginny's still shaking like mad, and Harry's passed out. Ron and Neville are in the same state you were."

"Nicci, are they going to be alright?"

"Of course they are." I looked at Lupin. "Professor, can you go check the other compartments and see if the dementors have left any residue. And if there's anyone you can't wake up with some chocolate and a few minute's time, come tell me."

He was too shocked to argue. He left quietly, muttering something about "losing his touch."

"Hermione, help me move Ron over, so Neville can sit up."

But there was no need. Ron blinked, and sat up. "Whoah. That is _not_ something I want to experience again."

"Here, Ron, eat this." I gave him more chocolate. "See if it helps."

"What's wrong with Harry and Ginny?"

"Hermione," I sighed, as I went to see Ginny. "Explain to him, will you?"

"Nicci," Ginny whispered as I came over, "that was horrible. I never want to do that again."

"It's fine, Ginny. Eat this." I pushed the chocolate at her. "I imagine you saw the Chamber again."

She nodded mutely.

I would've asked her more, but Neville groaned and came around. Hermione rushed over to help him sit up and repeated the process I used for Ron.

"Ron!" I hissed. The dementors hadn't affected them too badly. That was good, at least. "Help me prop Harry up."

Ron complied; Lupin came walking back into the compartment when we finished. "The students are all fine. They're talking about a huge, silver lion that scared off the dementors. Apparently it went from compartment to compartment, making sure the dementors were gone." He looked slightly amused for a moment. "Everyone's saying how Gryffindor's spirit is watching over them, making sure they survive. The Slytherin's aren't too happy about this."

I laughed. "They're closer then they think." I ignored Lupin and Hermione's confused expressions. "Anyway, everyone's awake except Harry."

"Harry! Harry! Are you all right?"

Hermione was slapping his face.

"Hermione! Don't slap him!"

"W-what?"

Harry finally opened his eyes. Hermione and I breathed a sigh of relief and pushed him onto his seat.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked Harry.

"Yeah," said Harry, looking at the door. He seemed to be waiting for the dementor to come back. "What happened? Where's that—that thing? Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," said Ron nervously.

I frowned. I hadn't heard anyone scream. Unless…could it be… "Harry, the person you heard scream…was it a woman?"

"Yeah," said Harry, looking confused. "How'd you know?"

A loud snap made us all jump. Lupin was standing in his corner, breaking apart more chocolate. He gave Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Ron some, then took some for himself.

"Why didn't you give Nicci any?" asked Ron, pointing at me.

"She doesn't need it," said Lupin. "She's the only one who wasn't effected by the dementor."

"Wait…you all fainted too?"

"No," said Hermione, looking scared. "We…I don't know—ask Nicci."

"They didn't," I informed him. "They went kind of rigid and still, but you…well, your eyes kind of rolled back in your head, and you looked like you were having a fit. And then you collapsed."

"No one else fainted?"

"No," Ron said. "Ginny was shaking like mad though."

"It was a horrible feeling," whispered Neville. "Like I'd never be happy again."

"That's what a dementor does," I said. "That's what it's supposed to do. It's a kind of torture."

"Torture?" asked Hermione, looking shaken.

"They guard Azkaban, remember?" I sighed. "That's probably why it didn't affect me. I'm used to it. I spent two weeks surrounded by them."

Hermione jumped off her seat and hugged me before I could react. "You_ poor girl_!" she sobbed. "Surrounded by that…when you were _ten_."

"Why were you in Azkaban?" asked Lupin, staring at me.

"Cursed a Ministry official," I said, trying to pull Hermione off me. She sat back down, looking very upset.

"When you were ten?"

"Yep," I said, shaking my hand. "Got my revenge though; I set dragons on them. Four of them, in fact."

Lupin laughed. "_You_ set the dragons on the Ministry? I wondered why they didn't give a name of the "powerful, old, Dark wizard…"

"They aren't creative enough," I said.

"We'll be in Hogwarts in ten minutes," Lupin told us suddenly.

No one talked much for the rest of the journey. As Hogsmeade loomed ahead, I stood up and walked into the hall. "Thaniel!" I muttered.

My faithful pet ran to me in the form of a sleek black cat. He jumped into my arms and I walked back inside.

"I thought you had an owl!" cried Ron.

"We already went over this, Ronald," said Hermione. "It's a shape-shifter."

"A shape-shifter? Really?" asked Lupin, looking interested. "You'll have to bring him into class once. What's his name?"

"Thaniel," I said to Lupin. Thaniel hissed and turned into a phoenix. "Well, _that_ doesn't look right," I told Thaniel sternly. He looked at me reproachfully, then changed into a small black puppy.

"Better."

The train halted and we all dismounted. I grabbed my trunk and hurried out onto the path.

"Firs' years this way!" called a voice I'd never heard before. I turned to see a huge head poking out from under the pile of students. Shuddering from the cold rain, I turned to find Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were standing on the path.

At least a hundred stagecoaches, pulled by thestrals, were awaiting the students above first year. I went up to one and stroked his nose. He snorted and I giggled.

I climbed onto the coach with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Ron and Hermione were looking at Harry as though afraid he would collapse again. I snorted quietly.

Everything was fine until we passed the Hogwarts gate; where two dementors were standing guard. _Great_. I watched them as we passed with cold eyes. Finally, the thestrals swayed to a stopped and Ron and Hermione got out, followed by Harry. I got off last, looking at the school I hadn't seen in a thousand years. Still as magnificent as ever.

"You _fainted,_ Potter? Is Longbottom telling the truth? You actually _fainted_?"

A boy with bright blond hair was elbowing past Hermione and Ron to block the way into Hogwarts. I stopped beside Harry. "Move it, git."

"That's not nice, P—" He caught sight of me. "Who're you?"

"Nicci Lonsen," I smirked. "You must be Draco Malfoy. You look exactly like your father, do you know that?"

"Thank you," he said, looking very dignified.

"That's not a compliment, Malfoy," I said in contempt. "Three years ago, I was part of an assassination mission to kill your father."

"_You're_—" Malfoy looked shell-shocked. "But—but Father said—"

"I don't give a damn what your father said," I said. "Now _move it_."

Malfoy opened his mouth, as if to say something. He must have thought better of it, because he grabbed two other boys and stalked off towards the castle.

"Nice of him to leave," I said.

Ron broke into a huge grin. "_Wicked_, Nicci! I've never seen someone frighten Malfoy like that before. Mind being our personal bodyguard?"

"_Ron!_" Hermione looked annoyed. I laughed.

"Sorry Ron, but I don't think you'd like being guarded by a girl much. Because if I'm fighting Malfoy, you'll have to hold my _purse_…" I dissolved into gales of laughter. Harry laughed loudly, and Hermione chuckled.

Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the four of us followed the crowd up the staircase to the Great Hall. I'd been in the Great Hall before; in fact, I'd _died_ in it. But I liked what the centuries had done to it. It looked exceptionally grand.

"Potter! Granger! Lonsen!"

I groaned and turned around. Minerva McGonagall was striding towards us, looking exceptionally stern with her tight bun and square glasses. I walked over to her with Hermione and Harry, trying to remember if I'd done anything wrong lately. I probably had; the question was if she knew about it or not…

"There's no need to look so worried—I just want a word in my office," she told us. "Move along there, Weasley."

Ron stared as we were ushered off by McGonagall across the entrance hall and up a staircase. We walked along a corridor to a door, which McGonagall pushed open and strode to a desk. She motioned for us to sit down, and said abruptly, "Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead telling me you took ill on the train, Potter."

"_Everyone_ took ill. There was a _dementor_," I said sharply.

"You seem fine," said McGonagall.

"I'm used to them," I said quietly.

There was a soft knock on the door and a woman came bustling in. "Who's that?" I asked McGonagall.

"Who's this, Professor?"

McGonagall answered my question first. "Nicci, this is Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse. Poppy, this is Nicci Lonsen. She's beginning Hogwarts as a third year."

"Ah yes," said Madam Pomfrey. " Professor Dumbledore told me about you. Said you know a little about Healing."

"A bit," I responded. "I know how to mend bones, and heal wounds, and deal with magical creature side effects and all that."

"That's not 'a bit'," said Madam Pomfrey. "That's quite a lot, Miss Lonsen. Hopefully, you'll be able to keep Mr. Potter alive until the end of his time at Hogwarts."

Harry took the pause to start up his argument. "I'm fine," he said, "I don't need anything—"

"Oh, it's you, is it?" asked Madam Pomfrey. I thought she looked amused. "I suppose you've been doing something dangerous again?"

"There was a dementor, Poppy," said McGonagall. The two shared a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey started checking Harry's forehead and pulse.

"They're not _that_ bad," I said. "Once you've gotten used to them—"

"Not all of us are as durable as you are," McGonagall reminded me. "In fact, very few people are as durable as you are."

I glared at her. "So why'd you call me up here, anyway?"

McGonagall gritted her teeth. "You have to be Sorted. I'm to walk down with you as soon as I'm done with these two."

"_What_? Oh, _really_, Professor?"

"Miss Lonsen, this tradition must be upheld. The Sorting Hat—"

"The _Sorting Hat_? They still _use_ that thing?" Oh no. This was _bad_. What were they thinking, sending me here? Did they _want_ to get me recognized? The Sorting Hat would recognize me immediately. I was the joint daughter of Gryffindor and Slytherin. This was _really_ bad.

"I'm _fine_!" Harry's voice broke me out ofmy silent tirade.

"Well, he should have some chocolate, at least," said Madam Pomfrey.

"I've already had some," said Harry crossly. "Professor Lupin gave to me. He gave it to everyone except Nicci."

"Oh?" Madam Pomfrey turned on me. "And why not?"

"Because he ran out," I said sarcastically. I glared at Harry. "I didn't need any."

"She doesn't need any, Poppy," said McGonagall unexpectedly. "Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?"

"_Yes_," said Harry.

"Very well," said McGonagall. "Potter, Lonsen, kindly wait outside while I have a quick word with Miss Granger. Then we can go down to the feast."

"Joy," I muttered under my breath. It was an American expression I'd picked up from Ben.

Thankfully, no one heard my muttering. Harry and I walked out, and as soon as I was outside and the door was closed, I rounded on him.

"_What'd you tell Madam Pomfrey I hadn't had chocolate for_?"

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized. "I was just trying to get the attention off me."

"Great," I huffed. "Thanks a ton."

**A/N: **I know this chapter was all from Nicci's point of view, but you already know Harry's view on most things from the books. And I like writing from Nicci's character because I can expand her in any direction I want. Unlike the rest, where you have to stick to their basic character guidelines.

I think I'm going to write 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, and maybe 7th year in. Hopefully, it'll go a little faster now that I've explained a little more. I doubt it though. I like details.


	4. Chapter 3: Shock of the Sorting Hat

**Chapter 3: Shock of the Sorting Hat**

**Alecta:**

The journey back down to the feast was thoroughly unpleasant. Professor McGonagall and I argued the entire time, while Harry and Hermione seemed to be trying to decide whether to be impressed or terrified.

"_Really_—I don't need to be—"

"Of course you do, Miss Lonsen, everyone has to be Sorted—"

"Well, that's all well and good except for that _I_ won't be."

"And why is that, Miss Lonsen?" We had reached the main doors. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, get to the feast."

The left silently, closing the door behind them. McGonagall turned back to me. "Professor Dumbledore has told me everything about you, Miss Gryffindor, but why on earth can't you be Sorted?"

"Because—you see—it's just that—my father _made_ the stupid thing!" I spluttered. "I was the first person to _ever_ be Sorted by that Hat! Of course it's going to remember me!"

McGonagall paled. "The first—" She calmed herself. "No matter, Miss _Lonsen_, you will still be Sorted. It is tradition."

The doors opened. "You and your stupid tradition! Whatever happened to 'there's a first time for everything?'"

"Miss Lonsen! It _will _happen! Whether you like it or not!"

I leaned closely to her. "Fine," I muttered. "But if it blows my cover, I'm holding you accountable. And being held accountable by the most powerful witch in the last millennium is never good."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "I'll take that chance."

We walked side by side up the aisle, followed by whispers. Everyone had just seen McGonagall and I fighting; I wasn't sure whether that would be worse for me or for her. I looked up at the teachers. Everyone except Dumbledore and Severus Snape looked completely shocked to see that I talked to a teacher like that. And not just _any_ teacher; Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I tossed my hair and stood in front of a rickety old stool with the Sorting Hat on top. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and I walked up and sat down. She placed it on my head.

Almost immediately, the Sorting Hat stiffened. "You didn't think I'd forget you, did you, Alecta?" said the voice in my head.

"No," I said lightly. "I've been waiting."

"You'll have to tell me how you're here," said the Hat silkily in my head. "How you're still alive."

"Yeah, I'll stop by," I said.

"So…where should we put you this time around?"

"Gryffindor," I said immediately.

The Hat laughed. "You really are your father's daughter," he said, his resonating throughout the room. "Nothing like your mother, I see…except for your brain, of course."

"Why would I _want_ to be like my mother?" I snarled.

The Sorting Hat sighed. "Your mother was a great witch," he said sadly. "She was driven the wrong way by her family."

"And now she's dead," I said in contempt. The Hat flinched. I think I might've too.

"So, where _should_ we put you? Not Hufflepuff, I don't think," he said. "Not really the peacekeeper, are you? Nor Ravenclaw, though you'd do well in it.

"So it comes down to your bloodlines, doesn't it?" the voice in my head told me. "Slytherin or Gryffindor? But since you launched an assassination mission against a Slytherin three years ago, I don't think you'd do well there…Not to mention that Slytherin isn't really what it used to be a millenium ago, huh?"

I laughed. "No."

"How is it you manage to eliminate every other House, no matter how hard I try to keep you away from Gryffindor?" he asked me. "Very well, then…GRYFFINDOR!"

I sighed in relief. I took the Hat off my head and handed it to Professor McGonagall and walked over to the Gryffindor. There was a huge cheer, and I laughed and sat down next to Ginny, across from Harry.

"Well done, Nicci," said Percy, shaking my hand. "I expect you'll do well in Gryffindor."

"Uh, thanks, Percy," I said, withdrawing my hand and looking at Harry. "What do you think? Am I suitable for Gryffindor?"

He nodded. "Nicely done, Nicci."

"How could you fight with Professor McGonagall?" asked Ron, looking impressed. "I'd be scared stiff."

"Really?" I thought of when I'd been fighting with her. "She's not that scary."

"Yeah, but you've also survived Azkaban," said Ron.

"Very true."

Dumbledore suddenly stood up. He was an old man who I knew was one of the greatest wizards of his time. He gave off an amount of energy that I had no want or need to match. With the same crooked nose and ten-foot long beard, he beamed at all of us. I had no idea why he was doing so; there were dementors, Sirius Black, and _me_ to contend with. And he was _beaming_?

"Welcome!" said Dumbledore, now positively bursting with delight. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think I had better get it out of the way before the feast begins."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As you will be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry business."

A hand went up.

"Yes, Miss Abbott?"

The girl, Abbott, cleared her voice and said, "Can the founders leave behind spells and enchantments after their deaths? To, say, protect students?"

My mouth fell open in horror. They were going to ask about that lion. "No, Miss Abbott," said Professor Dumbledore, looking a bit confused. "Not that I am aware of. Why do you ask?"

"When we were on the train, and the dementors were there, they were in our compartment…" said Abbott, shaking slightly. "Everything was going dark and cold, and then…there was a—a silver lion. And it chased the dementor away. We thought Gryffindor maybe left it behind to protect us."

I hit myself in the head again and again. I was a real idiot, sending my Patronus out there. Obviously, it had caused gossip.

Dumbledore shot me a look. I sighed and stood up. "Godric Gryffindor's Patronus wasn't a lion," I informed them. "It was a hawk. His _daughter_, Alecta Gryffindor, had the lion Patronus. In fact, the Gryffindor symbol is the lion because of her. She died to save Hogwarts when she was thirteen, so they recognized her by making her Patronus the Gryffindor House symbol." I sat down again.

The entire room rippled to look at me. "How'd you know that?" asked Ron.

"Trust me, when you've been hanging around ghosts for a year and a half, you know a lot more about this kind of stuff than necessary." This was partially true, at least.

"So Gryffindor's daughter conjured the Patronus?" asked the girl.

"Gryffindor's daughter has been dead for a thousand years," I said. _Not._

"Oh," said the girl. She sat down, looking very disappointed.

"Well, at least you won't have trouble with History of Magic," Hermione said to me.

"These dementors are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore finally continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission." He glanced at me. "Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises—or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added. I frowned. _Who besides me has an Invisibility Cloak?_

"It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand excuses or pleading. I look to the prefects, and to the Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no students run afoul of the dementors. I highly doubt that lion will return to save you again." I raised my eyebrows. Did he, now?

Dumbledore looked around the hall, and his eyes landed on me. I stared defiantly back. No one moved.

"On a happier note," he continued. "I'd like to welcome two new teachers and a new student to our school this year.

"Miss Nicci Lonsen will be joining our Gryffindor third-years this year," he said. "And I advise you not to try to pull one over on her. She is not patient and she is very powerful. She learns quickly and has several friends who should not be taken lightly."

As if to prove his point, Thaniel turned into a miniature dragon and breathed some fire over the Slytherin's heads. "Thaniel," I called. "Cool it."

He hissed and became a huge black dog. He trotted out and growled at Filch as he and Mrs. Norris passed. "Sorry," I laughed, enjoying the horrified expressions on the Slytherins faces. "He's a bit temperamental. _Very_ overprotective."

"For our teachers, please welcome Professor Lupin, who has consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was some scattered applause. Lupin certainly looked shabby next to all the other professors, who were all wearing their finest robes. But all those who had been in his compartment, myself included, clapped hard for him.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the applause for Lupin died away. "I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical teacher, retired at the end of the year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs." Well, you didn't hear that every day. "However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

I had no idea who Hagrid was, but I applauded along with the rest of the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione seemed stunned. Seconds later, however, they started clapping louder than anyone else. I wasn't even sure who I was supposed to be looking at.

"We should've known!" Ron was shouting, pounding on the table. "Who else'd assign a biting book?"

That did not comfort me in the slightest.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"

"Oh, Professor, I have to go!" I jumped off my seat, looking at a watch. Hailey and Ben had told me that they wanted to meet me at eight-thirty to discuss something of importance. "Sorry, but I'm late for an appointment."

I ran out of the hall, ignoring the stares protruding my back. I climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor tower, where Hailey and Ben had wanted to meet me. I reached the Tower with seconds to spare.

"Good job, Nicci," said Ben, floating down. "You're on time for once."

"I have impeccable timing."

"Yeah, for being five minutes late."

"Funny." I glanced around. "Where's Hailey?"

"She couldn't come. So it's just you and me."

"Oh, joy," I said.

"I didn't teach you that expression so you could use it on me!" He sighed. "Nicci, we're—_I'm_ here to give you something you might need."

He walked over to the Fat Lady. "Fortuna Major."

She swung open, and I stepped inside. Ben glided after me. "We kept this from you because we thought you didn't need it. But it's obvious that with the dementors and all, you might not be able to control your magic."

"So what is it? A storage box?"

"No," said Ben, looking ruffled. "We would _not_ give you something that bad. Take a look at the door over there. Password's 'Oedipus.'"

"Greek mythology?"

"You betcha."

"Why is the name of a man who killed his father and married his mother my password?"

"Actually," Ben grinned, "we used it for its reference to sphinxes."

I glanced at him curiously, said, "_Why_?" then walked over to a door standing next to the fireplace. It was obvious it hadn't been opened for a few centuries at least. I muttered "Oedipus," and it swung open.

There was one thing inside the small room. A silvery outline of something I didn't recognize was floating about a foot off the ground. I grasped it and pulled it out.

"What's this?" I asked Ben.

"_That_ is your ghost form."

"My what?"

He took a deep breath. "When you died and the Council granted you immortality, we had this made. You can slip yourself inside it and _become_ Alecta Gryffindor. You'll look exactly like you used to, of course. You'll have to hide your human body while you're using it though."

"_What_? _How_? _Why_?" These questions were all asked in rapid succession. Oh, I love it when I use big words where they actually make sense.

"Of course, there are side effects," he babbled on. "You'll be warm to human touch and you'll be able to grasp things. And humans will bump against you. They can't get through you."

"_What_?" I asked again. This didn't make much sense. I had a _ghost_ form? "And this means what?"

Ben laughed. "You can become a ghost, Nicci. You can repair all the magical mistakes you make."

"I don't make magical mistakes! My spells are perfect!"

"Not like that, Nicci. Like with the lion Patronus…when something you do reflects who you _actually_ are. Use the ghost to explain the circumstances."

"So I can do whatever I want and pretend it was the ghost?" I asked excitedly. "Ha! This is the _best_ present I've ever gotten!"

Ben groaned. "Trust you to make this sound like I'm making the worst choice of my life."

"Does this mean I can use this to get out of classes I don't need to repeat?"

"I'm not sure how you'd do that."

"Professor McGonagall knows who I am," I said. "So I can't use it on her… But for the rest, I can say Nicci had to do something or other for someone!"

"You _are_ devious, aren't you?"

"Comes with being half-Slytherin," I shrugged.

**Harry:**

Everyone stared as Nicci raced out of the room at top speed. Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall shared amused looks, but all the other teachers and students seemed astonished. I felt similarly. Who ran out on a Hogwarts feast?

Ron was already piling food on his plate. Suddenly ravenous, I helped myself to as much food as I could and started to eat.

"Where do you think she could've gone?" asked Hermione. "She can't have something to do already!"

"This is Nicci we're talking about," grinned Ron. "Always has something up her sleeve, doesn't she?"

But even with Nicci's mysterious disappearance, I couldn't wait to talk to Hagrid. I knew how much being a teacher meant to him. Hagrid wasn't a fully qualified wizard, as his wand had been snapped in his third year. Ron, Hermione and I had cleared Hagrid's name last year.

At long last, when the last of the pumpkin tart had melted from the plate, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for us all to go to bed, and we got our chance.

"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed as we reached the High Table.

"All down ter you three," said Hagrid, wiping his eyes on a napkin. "Can' believe it…great man, Dumbledore…came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough…" Suddenly, Hagrid smiled. "Can' help noticin' yeh've made friends with that Lonsen girl," he told us. "Well, good. Dumbledore's told me lots about her. Powerful girl, if yeh haven' noticed. Strong, smart, sly, an' very pretty," he chuckled. "Well, yeh better be getting' off teh bed. Say hello to her for me."

Ron, Hermione, and I joined the Gryffindors streaming up the staircase, and along more corridors, and up another staircase, to the entrance behind the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Password?" she asked.

"Coming through, coming through!" called Percy. "The new password's 'Fortuna Major'!"

"Oh no," said Neville Longbottom. He never did get the passwords down straight.

We walked through the portrait hole and stopped dead. There, in the middle of the common room, on one of the couches in front of the fireplace, sat none other than Nicci Lonsen. "Hello," she said as we walked in. "I'm apparently sharing a dormitory with Hermione Granger, Lavender Brown, Pavarti Patil, and Ginny Weasley." I had no idea how, not only did she know exactly where she was sleeping and who she was sharing her dormitory with, but she also knew exactly how to get to the Gryffindor tower and how to find the password. Ron was right; she always _did _have something up her sleeve.

"How—how'd you get into the common room?" Ron stammered.

"One of the ghosts told me the password," she said sleepily. I saw a spark in her eye, though; something exciting had happened. From what I knew of Nicci, she'd just gotten something that she was extremely happy about. I clambered up to my dormitory, and felt calm for one of the first times since I got on the Hogwarts Express.

**Alecta:**

Some centuries ago, I decided that time had lost its' meaning. A few years at Hogwarts should pass right by, right?

Wrong.

So many things were happening, so many new ideas and classes (well, that may be pushing it). The students were fascinating; I hadn't realized what I'd been missing, lacking human contact and all, until I was back. I hadn't even realized how much I missed Hogwarts. I had to find all those secret passages I'd created. Maybe that one in the Owlrey, or that one down under the Potions classroom (now the Transfiguration classroom).

Professor Sybil Trelawney taught Divination, the most boring subject I'd ever sat through. Besides, if I wanted to see the future, I just had to go to sleep. If I wanted a boatload of bruises and at least two broken bones, anyway.

I could see the future any Saturday night, if I chose to go to sleep. Once I became human, that would be a definite issue. Because if I saw the future, I paid the price in bruises and bones. If had terrified Ben and Hailey, even, who had described it as "watching me get beat up from the inside."

Crap! Saturday night was only a few days from now. I wondered how bad it would be.

I sighed. We were in Divination, and I was pointedly ignoring everything that was being said, after casting a spell that would make everyone ignore me (except Harry, Ron, and Hermione).

"My dear! You have…the _Grim_," Professor Trelawney screeched.

"Excuse me?" I asked. "The _what_?"

"The _Grim_!" she said, shuddering slightly. "The omen of death and doom, the very worst, my dear, you simply have bad luck and death on your hands, a sworn enemy, a terrible price to pay…"

"I thought it was a bowler hat," said Ron sheepishly.

"You would," I said, looking annoyed and amused at the same exact time. Ha! I'd been trying to work out the whole different-emotions-at-the-same-time thing for _decades_.

That sounded odd.

The whole class started bickering over whether the Grim was really a Grim, or whether it was—did Finnigan just say a _monkey_?

"When you've all finished deciding whether I'm going to die or not!" yelled Harry.

"Personally, I think you're going to die," I said mockingly, pretending to be serious. "You just seem the type. I promise I'll come to your funeral though."

Harry glared at me, but Ron laughed. Even Hermione cracked a smile. Professor Trelawney however, didn't look amused. "Miss Lonsen, I'm sorry to say that though I see much potential for you to become a great Seer, I do not think you have the focus or the attention needed for Divination."

"I know," I nodded sadly. "It runs in the family."

I cast the spell over again, and spent the rest of the period imagining completely _un_-imaginative futures, most of them involving the Sorting Hat setting Neville Longbottom's head on fire.

**A/N**: I'm not sure I like this chapter. It kind of pushes information on you, and it's not very funny. No romance either. But I'm afraid we're not getting romance for a while yet. Ha! I can't wait to add Ginny! She's going to be my lovable, fierce/fiery, best friend-ish type girl, who will make all of the humor and tragic mishaps happen. And believe me, there will be more mishaps around Nicci than around Harry.

**j**: I really thought about your comment. Not like the whole 'you don't like it, that's too bad' kind of way, but the, 'hmm, that's a really good question' kind of way. (Even though it wasn't a question.) I'm going to answer it like a question though, because I think it'll be fun to finally right out my reasons for making her half-Gryffindor, half-Slytherin.

1. I like the idea of making her half-and-half. It gives me the perspective I'm looking for. (I promise the next reasons are better than this one.)

2. I wanted there to be _someone_ in this imaginatively changed story who was there for Harry. More than Ron and Hermione even, who are Harry's best friends. Harry is dealing with being connected with Voldemort. Nicci is dealing with being connected to the House she's always hated. The family she's always hated. The _way of life_, where pure-bloods are better than Muggle-borns, she's always hated.

3. I wanted Alecta/Nicci to have Salazar Slytherin's traits. At least some of them. I don't want Alecta to be the stereotypical Gryffindor. The noble knight who rushes in to save the day? No. That's not who I imagined Alecta Gryffindor to be. I wanted her to be sly and sneaky, but still brave and loyal. And, I admit, wanted her to be a Parselmouth. *evil giggle*

I promise that before I round this story off I will have throughly explained Alecta's past in start-to-finish mode, and not a few facts here and there and whisper on the other side of the common room. _Promise_.

-AM29

PS: I'm not sure why this is so long.

PPS: If you're looking for sappy fluff, you're looking at the wrong fanfiction. I am not a sappy person, and I don't think Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, or Nicci Lonsen are either.

REVIEW! Honestly, that's the only way I can find out what I'm doing wrong. So if you see something completely messed up and you fail to tell me…well, that's your problem. I think?


	5. Chapter 4: Reunions with Sirius Black

**Chapter 4: Reunions with Sirius Black**

**Alecta:**

I walked with Harry, Hermione and Ron to Professor McGonagall's classroom for Transfiguration. I would've skipped this, since we were sure to do something easy, but as McGonagall knew just about everything, I couldn't. And now I'd have to pretend I sucked (another American word from Ben; I really liked this one) too. Damn.

I sat next to Harry, drowning out everything that was said. I knew Professor McGonagall wasn't going to call on me; I knew more about Transfiguration than she did. I had the vague impression she was talking about Animagi, which was confirmed when she suddenly turned into a cat. I'd seen Animagi before, so this wasn't very interesting. My father and I had both been Animagi, along with Pettigrew, James, and Sirius…

Speaking of which, I had to contact Sirius and find out was he was up to. I needed to know the whole story from his point of view. I decided to write a letter, and send it to him through Thaniel.

Suddenly feeling much better, I turned back to the lesson in time to hear Professor (or _Purr_fessor, haha…argh, that was bad…) McGonagall say, "Really, what has got into all of you today?" She'd turned back into herself. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

I snickered, and Professor McGonagall glared at me. "So, Miss Lonsen, what do you think is wrong with our class today?"

"Easy," I shrugged. "Just got out of Divination. Reading tea leaves. I'll give you two guesses."

"No need to say any more, Miss Lonsen," said McGonagall disdainfully. "Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

I snorted, but everyone else stared at her.

"Me," said Harry, finally.

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a voice saying, "Here they are! Ickle third-years!"

"Peeves!" yelled Professor McGonagall.

"Hey Nics!" cried a voice. I groaned. "Fancy meeting you here!"

"Dear Lord," muttered Hailey, floating in behind Ben. "You're about as smooth as a bed of spikes, do you know that?"

"What is—" Professor McGonagall started to say.

"Nicci!" cried Ben. "What're you doing here? We thought this would be the first class you would ditch!"

"After Divination, of course," said Hailey. "And Potions."

"Well, thanks a lot, guys," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Wonderful. Just _smashing_."

Everyone was staring at me. "This is Hailey Hufflepuff," I told everyone. "And that's Benjamin Ravenclaw."

Hailey grinned. "What are you_ doing_? You're at Hogwarts! And you're _taking classes_?"

"Well that would be fitting," I said sarcastically, "since Hogwarts is a _school_."

Ben stuck his tongue out at me. "Well, we're going to visit all those secret passageways we made with _Alecta_. See you, Nics."

"Why did you come in here, anyway?" I asked, not understanding the point of interrupting my class if they were just going to leave again.

"There's a passageway that goes into the Black Lake from here. Of course, Alecta was the only translator into Mermish. Shame she couldn't come, really, but she always decided to be a _good student_."

"Oh, shut up," I said. I'd almost forgotten about that passageway. Bloody gits.

"By the way," said Hailey, speaking to Harry. Ben stopped and looked at her in confusion. "Don't worry about Trelawney. She predicts the death of one student a year for every year she's been here."

"It's some kind of sick, twisted tradition," said Ben, catching on immediately.

"None of those students have died yet. Her famous death omens are a way of greeting the class."

"Yeah, 'cause she's a right old fraud."

"She is not!"

"Just because she made _one good prophecy_." They were floating out, bickering.

"Yeah, well that _one good prophecy_ changed the course of the world!"

The door slammed behind them.

Everyone stared at me. I shrugged. "Don't ask me." I turned to look at Harry. "Listen Harry, Hailey's right. Besides, Divination is a very imprecise branch of magic, and most people don't even take the time to listen. Even with centaurs. I went to learn about them for two days, and when I finally left, I didn't want to hear about how 'Pluto is especially gray tonight' ever again."

There was a ripple of laughter. Harry cracked a smile.

Professor McGonagall looked at me. But it wasn't a mean glare; it was more of a proud expression. "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."

Hermione laughed; Harry looked as though a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. I drifted away from McGonagall's lecture and imagined what I would say to Sirius.

_Dear Sirius,_

_It's Nicci. Remember, from Azkaban? Well, I'm in Hogwarts now, and I want to help you._ No, that sounded corny. Plus, it seemed like I was offering him help, even on the odd chance Hailey was wrong, and he did want to kill Harry.

_Sirius Black,_

_I want to know what happened the night you may have possibly killed Peter Pettigrew…_ Oh, just great, Nicci. Why don't you just add the question 'What happened the night you may have possibly given Lily and James Potter to Lord Voldemort?' You're such an idiot.

I tried again.

_Dear Sirius…_

_Dear Black…_

_Sirius Black, cell-mate and dog Animagus…_

Argh! This wasn't working.

But just then Transfiguration finished and I was forced to pack up and head to lunch with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I listened to Ron and Hermione bicker the entire way to the Great Hall. They sounded like an old married couple.

"But Ron, you heard what Professor McGonagall said. You even heard what _Hailey Hufflepuff_ said," said Hermione, sounding triumphant.

"Harry," said Ron, sounding low and serious, "you _haven't_ seen a great black dog anywhere, have you?"

"Yeah, I have," said Harry. "I saw one the night I left the Dursleys."

Ron's fork fell with a clatter. I rolled my eyes. _Sirius, you great idiot._

And just like that, I had an idea for my letter. I dropped everything and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. The trio stared at me, watching me curiously.

"I gotta go," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder and racing out of the Great Hall. I went up to the Owlrey for peace and quiet, and began writing:

_Sirius, you great idiot,_

_I heard you escaped from Azkaban. And honestly, I can't say I'm surprised. You never seemed the type to die in Azkaban. Dying as a dog on the mainland is much more your style._

_Don't worry. Against my better judgment, I'm sending you some food with Thaniel. Be grateful, you great prat. But I do owe you my life, so I suppose I'd have give it anyway._

_I have a request too. I want you to come to Hogwarts (though I suppose you're already on your way), and I want you to tell me the whole story. From start to finish. No riddles, puzzles, or inappropriate jokes (which I know will be hard for you). From the night James/Lily made you Secret Keeper to the night you escaped. And maybe a little extra._

_I'm not going to spy for you, or help you, or anything. Well, I might, but I'm not making any promises. Not yet. _

_You had better respond,_

Nicci Lonsen

_P.S. In case you don't believe me, you once told me James was the most love-sick geezer you ever met. And that you used to call him Prongsie…_

I folded up my letter and handed it to Thaniel, who transformed into a phoenix. He was already carrying a huge bag of food on his bag. I'd also given him a few rolls of parchment, quills, and ink, so he didn't have any excuses not to write me back.

After I saw Thaniel off, I headed to my next class. Shit, I was late. Fifteen minutes late. What was my class again? Care of Magical Creatures?

I checked my schedule. Yep.

I nearly flew to the Forbidden Forest, and stopped at the outskirts of the class, where the teacher, Hagrid, his name was, was talking. I walked slowly out into the open, wondering what creatures we'd be seeing.

"Nicci! Where've you been?" Hermione was calling out to me. Dammit.

"Yer the Lonsen girl?" Hagrid turned around to stare at me. When I didn't move, he beckoned me forward. "Welcome ter Care of Magical Creatures."

"Thanks," I said, stepping forward. This was a mistake. Four huge—were those _hippogriffs_?—stepped around me, circling me. They loomed over me, growling.

Hippogriffs. Well, at least this would be easy. I took a bit of my magic (I'd worked on this for at least twenty years) and released it around me as I spoke, letting fury cloud through the clearing.

A hippogriff snarled at me.

"Excuse me?" I snarled back at it. "If I understand correctly, _you_ are trying to block me from getting to my class. Now, _move it_." I let an extra bout of conjured fury roll across my hand.

This obviously frightened the hippogriffs. They did not know who I was yet, but they knew I was not to be trifled with. That was a good sign. Slowly, they bowed and backed away from me.

I walked over to the class and let a broad grin cross my face. "Well, that was fun."

"Fun?" Hermione whispered back, looking terrified.

Hagrid was staring at me. So was everyone else in the class. I was _really_ going to have to get used to this. Why was it that everywhere I went, there was always something that picked me out from all the other students? And I did it _every single time_.

"Well, Harry just rode on that hippogriff named Buckbeak," said Hermione, pointing. "Then you showed up…and, well, you know what happened. What d'you know about hippogriffs?"

"Sorry about being late, Professor," I said, looking up at Hagrid. "I was sending something and I lost track of time."

"Alrigh', alrigh', no harm done," grunted Hagrid.

Everyone seemed very excited about the fact Harry had ridden Buckbeak; they seemed to forget their fear of big scary beasts and they climbed over the fence. I laughed. I'd ridden a hippogriff before; I'd ridden several hippogriffs before. It wasn't _that_ special, I didn't think.

Hagrid had untied the hippogriffs, and the students seemed to be bowing all over the place. I sat next to Harry and watched as Ron and Hermione bowed to a chestnut hippogriff of slightly larger-than-average size.

Malfoy and his two cronies (I still didn't know their names) were teasing Buckbeak. What were they thinking? Hermione had mentioned that Hagrid told them insulting or provoking a hippogriff was extremely dangerous, but it was common knowledge that you didn't insult magical creatures unless you wanted to be attacked. A five-year-old should know that.

"This is very easy," smirked Malfoy. He was loud enough that half the class could hear. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it…" I tensed angrily. "I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" Of course he was. He was a _hippogriff_. Only an idiot wouldn't think that he was dangerous. But the Malfoys apparently had crossed that line ages ago. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

"Idiot," I said, shaking my head. At least it happened. The sound of talons whipped through the air, ripping through skin…serves him right. _Insulting a hippogriff._ Honestly!

I ran to Buckbeak anyway; I thought Hagrid could use some help. I pressed my palm to a spot between Buckbeak's eyes, and he lowered his head. I stroked his beak, ignoring Malfoy's cries of 'I'm dying! It's killing me!'

"I know, he _is_ an idiot, isn't he?" I murmured to the hippogriff. "How dare he call you an ugly brute!" Buckbeak shook his head angrily. "You're the most handsome hippogriff I've ever met, Buckbeak. But you've gotten revenge, there isn't need for more. Don't stoop to his level."

Buckbeak calmed at my words. Slowly he walked to his fellow hippogriffs and tossed his head at Malfoy. Then he turned away.

I grinned and turned back to Harry and Ron. They were both staring at me, speechless.

"How—how'd you do that?" stuttered Ron.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I just talked to him."

"Well, it was bloody brilliant, whatever you did," replied Ron finally. "If not, Hagrid might've been sacked."

I nodded and we followed the class back to Hogwarts.

"It's all Malfoy's fault!" snapped a boy named Dean Thomas. I saw Malfoy's 'friends' cracking their knuckles.

"If anyone does anything besides crack their knuckles, they'll end up in the same place as Malfoy," I snarled. "Put your fists down, morons."

"I'm going to see if he's okay!" cried a girl named Pansy Parkinson, rushing off to the Hospital Wing. The other Slytherins stalked off to their common room in the dungeons (what? I'd been there plenty of times to know where it was and what it looked like). Everyone else headed up to the Gryffindor common room, where Hermione immediately started fussing.

"D'you think he'll be okay?" asked Hermione nervously.

"Of course he will," I said.

"Madam Pomfrey can heal cuts in about a second," Harry added.

"That was a really bad thing to happen on Hagrid's first day, wasn't it?" said Ron, looking worried. "Trust Malfoy to mess things up for him…"

Harry, Hermione and I nodded in agreement.

"We should go down to dinner," said Hermione. "Maybe Hagrid'll be there."

The other two nodded agreement and jumped up. I stayed sitting, staring into the fire. "I'll be down later," I said. "I've got to do something first." I knew exactly what I was going to do.

**Harry:**

I knew something was wrong the moment we left. Well, not _wrong_. Just odd. Maybe something spectacular would happen at dinner.

We walked quietly and tensely to dinner, hoping for a sign of Hagrid. But Hagrid wasn't there.

"They _wouldn't_ fire him, would they?" Hermione was asking anxiously.

"They'd better not," said Ron.

I looked over at the Slytherin table, where Crabbe and Goyle were sitting with a whole other group of Slytherins. _Probably coming up with their own version of events,_ I thought bitterly.

And then it happened. I heard a huge boom, and swiveled in my seat to look at the source of the noise. The door.

"Ooh, you guys are really in for it," came a voice. Ben and Hailey were floating near the ceiling. "I haven't seen her like this in five-hundred years."

"You haven't _seen_ her in five-hundred years."

Hailey ignored him. "Wonder what idiotic things you did. Hope she gets furious."

"I've never seen Alecta furious before. I imagine it's bad."

"I have," said Hailey. "When she dueled her cousin."

"Silen?" asked Ben. "It wasn't much of a contest. No filthy Slytherin could match our Alecta."

"Filthy?" cried an outraged voice from Slytherin. "You call _us_ filthy? Look at the vile at the Gryffindor table!"

"We do not speak of blood," said Hailey, going deadly quiet. "We speak of character, personality, and intelligence. Something," she spat, "your House desperately lacks. Just like the founder."

Slytherin hissed. "You do not know how to stop," continued Ben. "Thankfully, Alecta wasn't tainted by your—"

"Oh, stop it." It was a voice I had never heard before; the most melodious, beautiful voice I'd ever heard. It filled me with hope just to hear it. And then, a girl ghost strode through the doors.

She was small and thin, but cast an aura of radiance. She had long golden hair, and was wearing a white dress with a red and scarlet sash.

The girl was no more than thirteen years old.

"Hailey, Ben," she said softly. "Cut it out."

"Alecta, why? They aren't _true_ Slytherins anymore. These are just dried-up, idiotic—"

"Stop it, Hailey." She closed her eyes. "Yes, these Slytherins make me ashamed to be half-Slytherin. But that doesn't mean you berate them. Not yet, anyway," she said, glaring at them.

"You are such a _princess_, Alecta," said Ben, laughing.

"I am not!" she said defiantly.

"Why're you here, Alecta? If you're not going to duel anyone, that is," asked Hailey.

"I need to tell you something, Dumbledore," she said, exhaling. "Nicci. Saturday night."

Hailey and Ben made tiny 'oh' sounds. I looked at Ron and Hermione, who both looked as confused as I felt.

The Hall broke out into whispers. "_Listen to me_," said the ghost. Silence fell immediately. "There's nothing you can do to stop it, Dumbledore. Let it take its course. In the end, it's more a help than a hindrance." Dumbledore nodded silently. "She will have bruises. She will have scars. She may have a broken arm or leg. There's nothing you can do, so don't try to stop her."

"Wait, _Nicci_?" Hermione screeched, jumping up. "Scars? Bruises? What's going on?"

"Ah, Hermione," said the girl, jingling her bracelets slightly. "You will have to wait and see."

Before I had the chance to wonder how she knew Hermione's name, she was turning to walk away. But she looked back again. "I want to offer my sincere apologies to Professor Hagrid, who has unfortunately been placed with a student so—" She stopped and smiled slightly. "A student like Draco Malfoy. For when I was alive, six-year-olds knew better than to provoke a hippogriff. Or any other magical creature, for that matter."

Ben burst out laughing. Hailey slapped him. "I will see you all again, I'm sure," said Alecta. "Because Hogwarts will always hold the place where I learned, where I laughed and broke rules, and where I _lived_. And I am tired of trying to stay away." She looked at them sadly. "Never forget to live. Because if you do, it is only a matter of time before you begin to lose yourself."

She turned and floated away, disappearing through the wall. Hailey and Ben went to go after her, but Hailey turned and said, "There's a reason why we respect her, you know. She's the bravest, most powerful person we ever knew, and that's saying something, as we knew the founders as well. But she's also kind, careful, and wise. She's lost everything, and yet she's still the person _we _all turn to for hope. She's pure, no matter who she's killed or what pain has befallen her. Because when all the pain and sorrow and disease is gone, what is left?"

The room was silent. Even Hermione didn't know the answer; she was looking at the table, trying to riddle it out.

"Hope," said Hailey. "When everything else is gone, and the world is falling down around you, hope is all you have left."

And she was gone.

**Alecta:**

I was _floating_!

I don't know, being a ghost is pretty darn cool. I'm not sure why all the ghosts I know complain about it. It's tons of fun.

"Well done, Nics," said Ben, coming up behind me. "But how do you turn into such a saint whenever you're Alecta?"

"I've only been Alecta _once._ Well, twice," I said. "And would you please stop calling me 'Nics'? I don't like it much."

Ben stared at me. "It's official. Being the ghost affects your personality."

I frowned. "It does not!"

"Oh my God, it does!" cried Hailey behind me. "You're kind, caring, and polite whenever you're the ghost! You haven't been like that in seven-hundred years!"

"Well, I suppose…" I considered the idea for a minute. "Oh my _God_!"

Ben and Hailey shared a grin. "Let's just hope Harry, Ron, and Hermione can handle you."

"I am not to be handled! I can handle myself," I said unconvincingly.

"Yeah, whatever," said Ben. "Hurry to dinner before your absence becomes obvious, Miss Too-Angelic-For-My-Own-Good."

"Oh, shut up," I said sourly. But I did pull myself out of the ghost and into my body, which was hidden in the corner of my dormitory. On my way out, I grabbed a book for good measure.

See, the closet had a spell on it that Summoned the ghost body back whenever I left. Handy little thing, that.

I pushed open the door to the Great Hall and walked in silently, seemingly engrossed by _Unfogging the Future_. Of all the books I've got, _this_ was the one I grabbed? Dear Lord. I stowed the book into my bag, and put on my best acting face.

"What's up with all of you?" I asked the silent room.

"Ghost…" said a boy from Hufflepuff.

How articulate. "Well, obviously there are ghosts at Hogwarts," I said patronizingly. "What happened?"

"Alecta Gryffindor came," said Hermione.

"I can't believe you missed her!" cried Ron as I sat down.

"Eh, I've met her before," I said dismissively. "And she's amazing, right?"

"Definitely," said Ginny. "But she seemed so…lost."

Lost? That was a new one. "What d'you mean?" I asked Ginny, who was sitting across from me.

"I don't know," she said carefully. "It seems like there's so much being placed on her. Like she's got to be the one who's always there. But she was only thirteen. And to think, she's killed."

"Well, killing isn't _so _bad," I said. "I've done it before."

"You've _killed_?" asked Ginny.

Oh, please. I've killed hundreds, maybe thousands of people. Not something to be proud of, no, but something to be endured. It still haunted me, the thought that I had taken other lives, but in this world, there was no time for remorse. Especially on a battlefield, where it was either kill or be killed. But I tried to tone it down.

"Twice," I lied through my teeth. "The first time…well, I'll tell you _that_ story some other time. The second time, it was just after my friends had been killed."

"Your _friends_?" asked Ginny.

"Yeah…come on, I'll tell you on the way back to the common room."

I turned and said good-bye to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, then picked up my bags and grabbed a chunk of fudge. "Ready?"

Ginny nodded. I could see she was interested. "Well, it all happened when I was eleven," I began. "I'd left England with my friends and headed to…let's see…Egypt, was it? Yep, I think so. Anyway, I went with them to Egypt to help with a Ministry struggle—"

"What were their names?" asked Ginny curiously.

"Their names? Er, Sara Liset, Mark Simons, Anthony Daples, Rose Hathoway, Blake Ransen, Hailey Burkes, Hamish Burkes, and I," I invented wildly. None of these people, of course, had ever existed. Except Sara Liset and Hailey and Hamish (Hufflepuff). Sara had ended up marrying their brother Nathan, but had died soon after. In a battle that nearly tore Hogwarts apart.

"So you went to Egypt?"

"Uh-huh," I stalled. _Tell her the real story, just keep on using the fake names, _I thought. _And don't mention the part where you died and then came back to life. _"But I had someone who wanted me dead. So he followed me, and when we had sorted out the problem in Egypt, he attacked us." I was a horrible story-teller. This was the most boring story I'd ever heard.

"_Who_?" asked Ginny.

"Er," I began, thinking furiously, "I don't know. We never found out who he was."

"Oh," said Ginny. "So your friends fought him with you?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "But he knew more than they did. He was three times our ages. The oldest was Anthony Daples, and he was only eighteen."

"Who was the youngest?"

"Me," I sighed. "Eleven, remember?"

"So he killed all of them?"

"Yeah," I said bitterly, remembering the King and how he had killed my friends one by one. It had been the worst thing I'd ever experienced.

"So then what?"

"I killed him," I said hoarsely. "I was so angry. So furious. I just lashed out and then…he was dead." Well, maybe _that_ wasn't true. He hadn't died so quickly or easily. It had cost my life to take his.

She put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said to me. "But you've got new friends now, haven't you? Harry, Ron, Hermione…and me, too."

I smiled and laughed a little. "You too? You don't mind being friends with someone who's killed before?"

"No," Ginny said firmly. "You don't seem deranged or insane at all. I like being friends with you."

"Deranged or insane?" I asked, laughing. "Ginny, just how many brothers do you have?"

"Six," she said ruefully. "Bill's the oldest, he's a Curse Breaker for Gringotts, and then Charlie, he trains dragons in Romania. Percy, Fred, and George are still here at Hogwarts; Percy's in his seventh year, and Fred and George, you know them, right? They're in their fifth year. Ron's the youngest of my brothers, but you know him."

"Oh, cool…" I said. "I don't have any brothers. What are your brother's at Hogwarts like?"

"Yep," she said. "Percy's a snobby git, but Fred and George are really funny. And Ron…well, you know what he's like."

"A stomach the size of a dragon and an emotional range the size of a teaspoon."  
"Absolutely," laughed Ginny. "You're very observant, aren't you?"

I nodded, grinning. "So that's how I know…you have a crush on Harry, don't you?"

Ginny nodded, looking downcast. "I don't know. He only sees me as Ron's little sister with the annoying school-girl crush."

"I don't think Harry would see anyone like that," I said. "He's too nice."

Ginny groaned. "No, I'm pretty sure he does. I sent him this Valentine's Day card…and it was humiliating. He doesn't know it was me, but if he did…" she trailed off.

"It couldn't have been that bad," I said comfortingly.

"The first line was, '_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad_'," muttered Ginny. "And it was sung by a dwarf."

I cringed. "I'm not sure which one you need more work on, Ginny, your poetry or your presentation!"

We both laughed. "But even if I didn't say anything embarrassing or crush-like, do you know how hard it is to keep a crush a secret with four older brothers living with you?"

I nodded. "Boys are so thick sometimes. They just tell each other things, but they don't get them at all."

"Things any girl could understand in a flash," Ginny agreed. "Like last summer, when I hid from Harry—"

"You _hid_ from him? Well, that's kind of obvious."

"That's not the point," said Ginny, flushing. "I was in my room, and Harry and Ron came by, and Ron just said, 'I don't know what's gotten into her. She usually never shuts up.' And Fred said, 'She's usually attacking us with questions about you.'"

"Oh," I winced. Having older brothers seemed terrible. I blessed my father for never getting married and never having children. (Except me, that is.)

"So, where are you staying during the summer?" Ginny asked me.

"I'm not sure," I said. "Dumbledore and I are going to talk about that later this year."

"Maybe you could stay with us!" cried Ginny. "It'd be nice to have another girl in the house besides Mum."

I laughed. "That'd be great," I said honestly. "But I don't know. With Harry and Hermione, d'you really have enough room?"

"Nicci, are we witches or not?" Ginny asked.

"We are, but we can't use magic," I said unconvincingly.

"I'm sure Mum wouldn't have a problem with you adding extra room," said Ginny. "Wonders of magic and all that."

"Right," I said, and we walked up to Gryffindor Tower together, chatting away.

**A/N**: Ha! This chapter was fun to write. I like Nicci and Ginny having a strong relationship, and I also like the idea of Nicci staying at the Burrow. I have a ton of ideas for that.

I kinda think the whole thing with Alecta is kind of iffy. I'm going to have to work on that a bit. Smooth it out.

One more thing; I know I'm leaving out some scenes, but if you want to know what actually happened, read the book. I don't feel like copying down the scenes. I'm really focusing on what's important to my character.

The next chapter is going to be fun for me, because Alecta gets to interact with Snape and Lupin. And she hears back from Sirius! I'm still deliberating on whether Saturday night should be next chapter or not.

-AM29


	6. Chapter 5: Boggarts and Black

**Chapter 5: Boggarts and Black**

**Alecta:**

For someone who'd been in Azkaban for twelve years, Sirius Black was very efficient. I got his response the next morning at breakfast. I read it quickly and quietly, making certain no one could see the letter but me. It wouldn't do for me to be helping Sirius Black, especially since everyone thought he was trying to kill Harry.

_Nicci,_

_When I first read your letter, I must admit I thought you were Lily back from the dead. You sound exactly like her, do you know that?_

_I can't tell you how grateful I am that you're on my side. I feel a bit more confident now that you're helping me. Maybe. I almost thought this was a trap, until I read the part about James being a love-sick old geezer…though if I remember correctly, after I explained James' antics, it was _you_ who called him the love-sick old geezer. Though I did call him Prongsie.  
I miss our chats, honestly. Though I'd never want to be back in Azkaban, it was almost bearable with you to laugh with. For a ten-year-old, you were surprisingly intellectual._

_I think what you're asking for is completely reasonable, though (maybe not the lack of inappropriate jokes). I should be at Hogwarts by Thursday, so how about I meet you at the Whomping Willow (I have told you how to freeze the branches, I'm sure) Thursday night at 10 o' clock? I'll tell you everything you want to know, I promise._

Sirius Black

_P.S. Would you mind terribly sending some more food with your reply? I'm starving; I haven't eaten anything since I left except the food you sent me._

I grinned. Trust Sirius to be the one to ask for more food. Though he did have a point when he said he hadn't eaten anything except for the food I'd given him. I picked up a quill and wrote back before Potions.

_Sirius,_

_Of course I'll send more food you great lug. You must be starving; I'll run down to the Kitchens and get a feast from the house-elves._

_So, tonight at the Whomping Willow? Would this have anything to do with the secret passageway from the Willow to the Shrieking Shack?_

_I'll be there. And before you even ask, yes, I'll bring food. I miss our chats too, really. You become friends much faster in Azkaban than anywhere else. I'll always remember._

_Why wouldn't I be on your side? I haven't taken the Ministry's side on anything in three years. (Except maybe Death Eater/Voldemort activity, and even then I sometimes disagree.) But I know you're innocent, and not just because you're not mad or deranged. I like you a lot, and I know at least some of the story. And I know from a ghost that Pettigrew is still alive, so your stories match up anyway._

_Tonight,_

Nicci Lonsen

_P.S. No inappropriate jokes is completely reasonable! _

_P.P.S. I do _not_ sound like Lily!_

I raced down to the Potions dungeon, where Snape had told me to meet him ten minutes early. I closed the door behind me and walked up to his desk. He was nowhere to be seen.

"Hello? Professor Snape? Professor!" I called into the gloom.

"Miss Lonsen, what are you doing here?" hissed a voice. Snape stalked out of his Potions closet.

"You left me a note telling me to come ten minutes early," I said warily. I remembered Snivellus; greasy old git with ambitions to become a Death Eater, just like the rest of his stupid Slytherin friends. Of course, I wasn't going to say that.

"It seems I did," said Snape silkily. "Well, Miss Lonsen, it appears you have the talent to join third-year Potions without your first two years. But I expect perfection. By the end of Potions, I want there to be a perfect sample of a Shrinking Solution on my desk. Or I will consider moving you down to the second-year Potions class."

I grimaced, then nodded. "Is that all, sir?"

Snape narrowed his eyes at me, thinking. "You, unlike your fellow Gryffindors, seem to have an inkling of good manners to your name. One point to Gryffindor."

I said, "Thank you, sir." I then proceeded to spit up a bit in my mouth. Unnoticeably, of course.

"You have five minutes left before class. I suggest you go and get your bumbling classmates before they are late and I am forced to deduct points."

"Yes, sir." I left the classroom, wondering how on _earth_ Snape could like me? I was the root of all Gryffindor evil! And he'd even given me points! Well, point, I suppose.

I met Harry, Ron and Hermione on the staircase down to the dungeons. "Hey! You'll never guess what just happened!"

"Snape took off twenty points because you were early?" guessed Ron. "He is such a git."

"No. Worse."

"He took off _fifty_ points?" guessed Harry.

"I almost wish. He—he _likes_ me," I shuddered.

"He _what_?"

"He _likes_ me. He complimented (for Snape, anyway) me. He even gave me a point."

"_What_?" Their voices echoed almost in unison. I nodded.

"I've never heard of him giving a point to a Gryffindor for anything! What'd you do, give him a model of Harry's dead corpse?" asked Ron.

I frowned at him. "Harry's dead corpse? Why on _earth_ would I give him a model of Harry's dead corpse?"

"Wait until Potions starts," said Harry grimly. "C'mon, we're going to be late."

We were set to a simple Shrinking Solution; I was done in no more than half an hour, and not even Snape could find a single thing wrong with it. After inspecting my potion for at least five minutes, he finally told me to bring it to his desk.

"It appears that we have a student who knows what she's doing," drawled Snape. "With_out_ being an insufferable know-it-all." He directed a glance at Hermione. That was a bit mean.

Just then, the door swung open and Malfoy swaggered in. His right arm was covered in bandages and bound in a sling. I choked back a laugh. He looked like he was trying to be the hero of some terrible battle…and failing miserably at it.

"Have something to say, Lonsen?" Malfoy said, throwing a look at me.

"Yeah. You are _such_ a faker," I snorted. "I've had worse injuries than that, but I don't go around parading it like I'm some kind of survivor."

"I don't see any injuries on _you_," drawled Malfoy. He sounded almost exactly like Snape.

"Wait for Sunday. My injuries will make that arm look like a cat scratch," I retorted fiercely.

"Settle down, settle down," said Snape idly.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks.

Not five minutes into the class, Malfoy stirred up trouble. "Sir," he called, "sir, I'll need help cutting these daisy roots, because of my arm…"

"Weasley, cut up Malfoy's roots for him," said Snape without looking up.

"Here, Ron, I'll do it," I told him. "I'm done anyway."

He muttered his thanks, and I pulled Malfoy's roots towards me and started to cut them into neat little pieces. I handed them back about three minutes later.

"And, sir, I'll need this shrivelfig skinned," said Malfoy, obviously disappointed by the fact that I'd done it so quickly and neatly.

"Potter, you can skin Malfoy's shrivelfig," said Snape, giving him a look of loathing that I recognized. It was the same look Snape had given James. I seethed quietly, and almost didn't hear Malfoy's vicious remark.

"Seen your pal Hagrid lately?"

"None of your business," said Ron without looking up.

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," smirked Malfoy. "Father's not real happy about my injury—"

"Keep talking Malfoy, and I'll give you a real injury," snarled Ron.

"—he's complained to the school governors. _And_ to the Minister of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know."

"Great," I said cheerfully. "_More_ reason to hate the Ministry. Maybe I can get Hailey to help me, and my dragons can set some _real_ damage to the Ministry."

"You're bluffing," said Malfoy, going pale.

"I don't bluff," I said coldly. "And I wasn't bluffing the last time, was I?"

I was so busy threatening Malfoy, I hadn't noticed that Harry was shaking in anger. I grabbed the knife from him, and started cutting up his caterpillars before he could do some real damage. "So that's why you're putting this on," growled Harry. "To try and get Hagrid fired."

I finished Harry's caterpillars and handed them back to him, but kept the knife.

"Well," said Malfoy, whispering, "_partly_, Potter. But there are other benefits too. Weasley, slice my caterpillars for me."

Ron looked like he was about to explode with anger, so I stepped in and cut the caterpillars before we all got into trouble. It seemed like _I_ was being the peacekeeper for once; and it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

A few cauldrons down, Neville was in trouble. His potion, which was supposed to be acid green, had turned orange. Snape looked at it in disdain.

"Orange, Longbottom," said Snape, ladling some up so everyone could see. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours? Didn't you hear me say, quite clearly, that only one rat spleen was needed? Didn't I state plainly that a dash of leech juice would suffice? What do I have to do to make you understand, Longbottom?"

"Please, sir," said Hermione, "please, I could help Neville set it right—"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," said Snape coldly. I glared at his back. "Longbottom, at the end of this lesson, we will put a few drops on your toad and see what happens. Perhaps that will encourage him to finish properly."

Snape stalked off. Neville turned to Hermione and moaned, "Help me!"

"Hey, Harry," said Seamus Finnigan, leaning over Harry's shoulder to borrow his brass scales, "have you heard? _Daily Prophet_ this morning—they reckon he's been sighted."

"Where?" asked Harry and Ron. I cursed silently; it was Thursday! He'd be here tonight. I noticed Malfoy was listening closely.

"Not too far from here," said Seamus, looking excited. "It was a Muggle who saw him." I breathed a sigh of relief. "'Course, she didn't really understand. The Muggles think he's just an ordinary criminal, don't they? So she phoned the telephone hot line. By the time the Ministry of Magic got there, he was gone."

"Not too far from here…" Ron repeated. "Nicci, can't you help the Ministry? You probably know him better than anyone else?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I swore that I'd never help the Ministry with _anything_ that didn't have anything to do with Voldemort or Death Eaters."

"But he _is_ a Death Eater! You-Know-Who's second-in-command!"

"You don't _know_ that! And the only evidence that he's killed anybody is from the Ministry."

"There were _eyewitnesses_!"

"They were _Muggles_! They didn't know about magic! What they thought they saw might not be what actually happened!"

The others exchanged looks. "You know," said Dean, "she's got a point."

"What about blasting the street apart and killing a dozen people with one curse?" asked Ron, thoroughly annoyed now.

"What about innocent until proven guilty?"

"He _killed_!"

I decided not to go into it in the middle of Potions. But I couldn't resist a, "You don't know that!"

Malfoy leaned in and said, "Thinking of trying to catch Black single-handed, Potter?"

"Yeah, that's right," said Harry off-handedly.

Malfoy was planning something, I could tell. He looked exactly like his father, and the thought sent waves of anger rolling down my skin. "Of course, if it was me," he said quietly, "I'd have done something before now. I wouldn't be staying in school like a good boy, I'd be out there looking for him."

This could be going nowhere good.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" asked Ron angrily.

"Don't you _know_, Potter?" asked Malfoy.

"Know what?"

Malfoy laughed a long cold laugh. "Maybe you'd rather not risk your neck. Want to leave him to the dementors, do you? But if it was me, I'd want revenge. I'd hunt him down myself."

"Yeah, well, thank God he's not you," I said at the same time as Harry said, "_What are you talking about?_" But at that moment, Snape called out the final instructions and told everyone to gather around Neville's cauldron. I hoped to high heaven that Hermione had helped him. Try saying _that_ five times fast.

"Everyone gather round," said Snape, his black eyes glittering with malice, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad…"

I slipped away from the class with a Disillusionment charm and walked to the courtyard, where I saw Hermione saying good-bye to a Professor and hurrying towards the dungeons. But she was in Potions! How could she—Ah. My expression cleared. She was using a Time-Turner.

"Hey, Hermione!" I called across the courtyard. Hermione turned, saw me, squeaked, and tried to pretend she wasn't there. I strolled up to her, and wasn't surprised to see a little gold chain just hidden around the neck. "I know you're there?"

"Er, hi, Nicci," she said. "Aren't you supposed to be in Potions?"

"I s'pose so," I said. "But then again, so're you."

"Oh, I've gotten it all fixed up with Professor—"

"Hermione…"

"So there isn't need to—"

"_Hermione_…"

"I really don't think—" She was breaking a new high pitch.

"_Hermione_!" I finally yelled. She broke off. "I know about the Time-Turner."

"What, but—? Have _you_ got one too?"

"Of course not," I said. "But I know quite a bit about those. So, this is how you've been taken three classes at the same time?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "Only, please don't tell anyone, all right? It's supposed to be top secret."

I nodded. "Come on, Hermione, I think we both have to get back to Potions."

"Oh no!" she cried as we raced down the halls. "We're going to be so late!"

"Calm down, Hermione," I said.

"There they are," said Harry as we rushed up the steps. We stopped in front of them, breathless.

"How did you do that?" asked Ron. I cast her a glance. With friends like Harry and Ron, it'd only be so long until they realized what was going on.

"What?" asked Hermione.

"One minute you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again."

I frowned. Ron could be annoyingly observant when he wanted to be. "I dropped something, Hermione was closest, I asked her for help," I invented wildly.

"Exactly," said Hermione. "Oh no—"

A seam had split on Hermione's bag. I wasn't surprised, as she must've had ten huge books in there. I picked up my wand and said, "Reparo." The seam mended.

"Thanks, Nicci," Hermione said. "Couldn't hold these for me, could you Ron?"

"But—" Ron was turning over the books, looking at the covers. "You haven't got any of these subjects today. It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."

"Oh yes," said Hermione, putting the books back in her bag. She really was very good at keeping these secrets. It was possible that Harry and Ron might not find out about this. "I hope there's something good for lunch, I'm starving."

"D'you get the feeling Hermione's not tell us something?" Ron asked Harry. I bit my lip and tried not to laugh.

At ten o'clock that night, I was racing. Running. I was excited to see Sirius. I wanted to know what had happened that night, and I wanted to see him and talk to him about my life, and his life, and just _everything_ that was going on.

I poked the knot on the trunk and stepped through the hole. And there he was. Sirius Black. My best friend of a whole two weeks.

"Sirius," I said, stepping through the gloom. "Hey."

"Hello, Lonsen," said Sirius. "You've grown up a bit, haven't you?"

"Oh, shut it, Black."

"What? It's a compliment," said Sirius.

"You're such a dolt."

"I don't deny that, Nicci." He grinned. "Did you bring food?"

"Of course I did." I passed him the bag of food and watched him devour it sickeningly fast. "So, are you going to tell me the story now?"

"Of course I am," he said. "I promised you, right?"

"Exactly," I said, grinning.

And so Sirius told me about him being Lily and James's Secret-Keeper; how he'd handed it off to Peter because he thought they'd safer that way; how Peter had betrayed them. The story of what really happened on the street; Peter running down a tunnel with the other rats, hiding in the consequence of what he'd done. He recalled the newspaper he'd gotten from Fudge, how he'd seen Peter Pettigrew on Ron's shoulder.

"Wait…you mean, Pettigrew is _Scabbers_?" I asked.

He nodded. "So _that's_ what you meant when you said 'He's at Hogwarts,' you were talking about Pettigrew, not Harry." I smiled as it all clicked.

"No, not Harry," he agreed.

"Well, now half the world thinks you're a mad murderer who plans on coming to Hogwarts to kill Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Only half?"

"The other half are Muggles, and just think you're a mad murderer."

"Very true."

"What do we do?" I asked.

"Nothing yet," said Sirius. "We can't do anything until I can get to Pettigrew."

"What's this 'we'?"

"You just asked me what _we're_ going to do!"

"Oh," I said, remembering. "All right, fine. What are _we_ going to do?"

"I don't know."

"_Sirius_!" I exclaimed.

"I just said we couldn't do anything yet!"

I sighed. "We sound like kids."

"You _are_ a kid."

"Shut it, Black. _You_ sound like a kid."

"Well, _you_ sound like Lily Evans!"

"Here we go again!" I finally yelled. "We've got to _shut up_!"

"Fine," said Sirius. "All right, who are you friends with and what teachers are there?"

"Well, Dumbledore's still Headmaster."

"Big surprise."

"McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout…"

"Regulars."

"Hagrid's teaching Care of Magical Creatures…"

"_Really_? I'm glad."

"Sinistra…Sybil Trelawney's teaching Divination, don't think you had her…"

"I didn't."

"And, er, Snape."

"_Snape_?" yelled Sirius. "_Snivellus_? They're letting _him_ teach?"

"Yeah. Potions."

"So who's got Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Lupin."

"Moony? You're _kidding_."

"Nope."

"Is he any good?"

"He's really good, actually. I had a class with him today."

"What'd you do?"

"Boggarts," I recalled. "It was a practical class."

"Ah," he smiled. "What'd you see?"

"You in a pink, sequined minidress," I snorted. Actually, that _would_ be pretty fearful.

"Hey!"

"I'm kidding," I said, laughing. I thought about my greatest fear and swallowed nervously.

"Funny," grimaced Sirius. "What was Harry's greatest fear?"

"I don't know. Lupin stepped in the way. I think he was afraid it would turn into Voldemort."

"Maybe." Sirius frowned. "So, what idiotic things have you done this time?"

"Nothing!"

Sirius looked at me.

"Okay, I might have gone a little overboard on a Patronus," I admitted. I tactfully failed to mention that my Patronus was a lion. (Or a panther, if I concentrated enough.)

"How overboard?"

"I terrified a trainload of dementors and students?"

Sirius laughed; and then stopped and sighed. "I suppose they were looking for me?"

"Sirius, everyone in the Wizarding world is looking for you! And what was that scam with the Muggle woman? Are you _trying_ to get arrested?"

"Not yet."

"_Yet_?"

"Not at all," said Sirius. "But I've got to stay out of jail long enough to clear my name with Harry. You know, Godfather's duty?"

"Clearly, James hadn't spent enough time with Lily when he named you Godfather."

"What does that mean?"

"Who makes _you_ a Godfather?"

Sirius opened his mouth—nothing came out. "Well…_he _would…no, wait… Fine! You've got a point."

I smiled. "All right Sirius, I've got to get back to Hogwarts before someone realizes I'm gone. Send me an owl with plans, all right?"

"Can you get me inside?"

"_No_. You get inside on your own. But I'll help you with the other parts, like pretending you're mine and everything."

"Fine."

I stepped towards the Whomping Willow. "Don't do anything stupid, now!"

"You wish."

I groaned. "Sirius, you better not—_crap_!" The Whomping Willow had taken the distraction in its' stride, and sent me flying onto the grounds. "Ow."

Sirius was laughing hysterically. "Nice, Nicci!"

"Be your name, Sirius!"

Silence.

"Oh, shut up."

Up in Gryffindor Tower twenty minutes later, I took out a book and opened it to my page. And promptly closed it again. "Sod it!"

"What's wrong with you, Nicci?"

I spun round to see Ginny standing on the first stair from the bottom with a puzzled expression on her face.

"What are you doing up?" I asked her.

"I could ask you the exact same thing."

"I needed to think."

"What're you two doing up?"

"Harry?"

"Nicci? Ginny?"

"Needed to think," I repeated.

"Couldn't sleep," said Harry.

"Didn't _want_ to go to sleep," said Ginny, laughing slightly.

"Well, why don't we talk for a while?" I suggested. "Sleeping's over-rated, anyway."

Harry laughed. "Sure," he said. "Er, I'm confused about Sirius Black."

I stared at him. "Sirius Black? Really?"

"Actually, I am too," said Ginny. "Nicci, you know him, don't you?"

"Kind of," I grimaced.

"So, what's he like?"

"Sane," I said firmly. "Completely sane and very rational. I don't believe he's done anything wrong."

Ginny looked at me. "But…there were eyewitnesses, weren't there?"

I didn't answer. "Can we talk about something else now? Really not in my comfort zone."

"Of course," said Harry. "Sorry."

"It's fine," I reassured him. "But maybe we'll leave Black out of conversations from now on."

"Maybe," agreed Ginny, her eyes sparkling.

"Where're Ron and Hermione?" I asked.

"Hermione's asleep," said Ginny.

"So's Ron."

"Nicci…" Ginny seemed to deciding whether to ask a question or not.

"What is it?"

"…What's your boggart?"

I froze. "Er, I'm not entirely sure," I lied. I _technically_ wasn't lying, as I didn't know the exact details, but I had a general idea. You know, I'm really sick of 'technically' not lying.

"Do any of us know what our boggarts are?" asked Harry tentatively.

"No, and this is a corny subject," I said, glaring. "Do we have _anything_ in common?"

"Not really," said Ginny, sighing.

"What about the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Nicci, that's really our 'Sirius Black'," said Harry.

"No," said Ginny. She was blushing bright red and was determinedly not looking at Harry, but she seemed confident. "I kind of want to talk about it."

"Really?"

"I don't know…" All the confidence seemed to evaporate. She threw her hands up into the air. "I don't _know_! I just feel so _responsible_…I could've _killed_ someone."

"That's not true," said Harry quietly.

"If Hermione hadn't told that Clearwater girl to pull out a mirror, they'd both be dead! Don't tell me I'm not responsible!"

I stared at her.

"Sorry," she said, going even more red. She ducked her face behind her hair.

"Good for you, Ginny," I grinned. Harry looked completely bewildered. "Harry, if your face has that expression any more often, it's going to get stuck there."

"Actually, I'm going to go to bed," said Ginny, stretching. "You were right, Nicci, talking _does_ help."

"See you in the morning, Ginny," I said, smiling.

"'Night, Nicci. Er, 'night Harry."

"I'm following Ginny's example," said Harry, pushing himself up off the couch. He looked up at the stairs till she disappeared. "'Night, Nicci."

"Good night, Harry," I said, picking up my book again. It had been a nice talk, and Ginny'd shown she _wasn't_ afraid to talk in front of Harry. At least, not when she had something she was passionate about. Maybe I'd get to work on it with her over the summer.

I didn't really mind that they'd both left. Between the two of them and Sirius, I had plenty to think about. Not to mention Saturday was only two days away. Gah! I'm completely screwed.

**A/N:** I'm really sorry that took so long. I had something like writer's block. And I was really busy. But, now I'm all freed up for the week, so expect at least two more chapters before Sunday! I'm on a roll.


	7. Chapter 6: Midnight Talk, Morning Rumors

**Chapter 6: Midnight Talks and Morning Rumors**

**Alecta:**

It's Saturday evening. I felt like complete and utter crap. Gift, my arse. This is the worst thing that could ever happen to me! And the worst part is Ginny and Hermione are watching me like a hawk, like I'm about to go and fight a dragon single-handedly, without any magical equipment.

Without the dragon, they'd be spot on. At ten at night, I finally excused myself and went up to bed, the whole of Gryffindor looking at me. Maybe announcing it to Dumbledore in front of the entire school _wasn't_ the best idea. Ah well.

Ben and Hailey met me halfway up the stairs. "Good luck, Nicci," said Hailey nervously.

"Yeah, try not to die," Ben joked weakly. I shot them a half-amused glare, and went to bed.

* * *

**Harry:**

Half an hour later, the screams started.

* * *

**Alecta:**

The pain wasn't so bad, really. I was used to it. But I couldn't help the screams. I _always_ screamed. And it wasn't just in my head, it was out loud. I was jerking uncontrollably, watching something I couldn't see.

* * *

**Harry:**

Hermione and Ginny were running up the stairs, panicking. Everyone else in the Common Room was staring at the entrance to the girls dorm numbly. The shrieks were agonizing to listen to; they were soul-ripping, heart tearing. George and Ron were staring at nothing, both completely pale. I looked around, and saw everyone seemed the same way.

* * *

**Alecta:**

I began to see shapes and colors, and my screams quieted a little. But I couldn't make out…? What was it?

"_Believe me," croaked Sirius. "Believe me, Harry. I never betrayed James and Lily. I would've died before I betrayed him."_

_Harry nodded._

"_No!"_

Who? Who screamed no? Harry and Sirius…Another jerk, another scream…

"_All right, Miss Lonsen, I've arranged for you to stay with the Weasley's until you are of age," Dumbledore was saying. "But I expect you to use your magic to make the stay easier, and I think it would be fair if some of your vault money…20 galleons, let's say…goes to the Weasleys anonymously for every month you're there."_

"_Thanks, Dumbledore."_

Yes! I was going to the Weasley house over summer vacation! And please. I had tons of money in my Gringotts vault. 20 Galleons? Said and _done_. They deserve it anyway.

"_It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" Hermione moaned, pulling Harry and Ron closer. I grabbed Harry's other side and pulled out my wand. "You-Know-Who's sign!"_

"_Voldemort's—"_

"_Harry, come _on_!"_

The Dark Mark? No…not possible…Voldemort was gone! And where had we been? A forest or something? Not Hogwarts, right?

I could almost feel bruises appearing on my arm…

_Dumbledore was standing next to the Goblet of Fire, a piece of paper in his hand. Well, that couldn't be right. There were supposed to be three champions, not four. What on earth?_

"_Harry Potter."_

_All I could do was stare._

WHAT? Harry, you couldn't be that stupid! You—you _didn't_, did you? What…show me more!

_Sirius was falling…that curse…No, no, __**NO**__! Please, please, Sirius, Sirius, don't be…dead._

"_Sirius!" Harry yelled from far away. "SIRIUS!"_

"_No!" my screams added to his. "Sirius, please!"_

_Harry was running towards the arch, desperation the most prominent feature on his face. I couldn't comprehend what he was doing. All I knew was that I was running after him._

"No!" I screamed. "No, no, please no, not _him_!"

**Crack.**

I felt a bone break.

"_Nicci, I don't know what to do," Ginny said to me. "I'm falling back in love with Harry bloody Potter, don't you see? I promised myself for two years that I wasn't, but now…"_

That was almost amusing.

"_What do I do?" Harry asked me. "Ever since I saw her kissing Dean, I can't stop thinking about her! She's been popping up in my dreams every night, Nicci! I can't get her out of my head."_

"_Harry," I said, trying to hold back a smile, "I think you're in love with her."_

"_I know," he said. "She's beautiful, smart, funny, and witty."_

"_Harry," I said again. "You're in love with Ginny Weasley."_

"_Yes! I know!"_

"_It's taken you five years to riddle it out? Jeez, you really are hopeless, aren't you?"_

Oh, dear Merlin. Harry was in love with Ginny? In…let's see…sixth year? This was hilarious. If it weren't so painful.

As if in a reminder, I felt another bruise on my leg, right under my kneecap.

_We'd won! We'd won!_

_The euphoria was so great, I couldn't believe it. Katie, Dean, Ginny, and I had freaking won this thing! And if Harry'd been able to play, we would've been even better. Katie, Dean, and I Chasing had been pretty good, but Katie, Ginny, and I were the best._

_If only Harry'd been Seeker instead of Ginny. But no, he was serving detention with Snape. Oh, I loathe Snape._

_As if on cue, Harry stepped through the portrait and the whole room erupted into cheers and screams. Ginny ran over to hug him and—_

_Bloody freaking wow. He just kissed her._

WHAT? Tell me more, tell me more, _please_ tell me more.

Another crack.

"_Ready, Ginny?" I asked, looking at the girl who'd grown up so well._

"_Yeah," she said, grabbing my hand._

"_Then let's go get your Prince Charming," I said, grinning smugly. "And after the formalities, you can find out how charming he is…in bed."_

"_Alecta!"_

I jerked awake, my screams and jerks subsiding. What was that last one? Last _two_? My _God_, what happened? Who did she marry? Who did _I_ marry?

"Nicci, Nicci, wake up, wake up!" cried Ginny, looking absolutely panic-stricken.

"I'm awake," I grumbled, sitting up.

"Nicci, what—what _was that_?" shrieked Hermione, staring at me.

"Ouch…nothing, Hermione…don't _do_ that, Ginny."

"Bruises just appeared on your arms and legs and you just broke two of your bones," demanded Hermione. "Explain."

"There's nothing to explain," I said, feeling the pain of the bruises and broken bones for the first time.

"Nicci, you've got to be kidding!" exclaimed Hermione.

I didn't even look at her and instead raced downstairs and out of the portrait. I needed to think.

* * *

**Harry:**

"What happened up there, Hermione?" asked Ron as soon as Ginny and Hermione came downstairs. Nicci had rushed past them seconds earlier, but no one had seen anything; she'd been wearing a black cloak and she hadn't looked at any of us.

"I don't know," Hermione cried, tears pouring down her face. The other students went upstairs to bed, completely silent and pale. "Bruises…they just started appearing on her arms."

"She broke two bones," Ginny said quietly. "And she didn't even leave the bed. She was screaming, and thrashing…I don't know what was going on."

"She didn't tell you?" I asked incredulously.

"She said there was nothing to explain and then ran out the portrait hole," Hermione said. "It was terrifying, though. It was like she was suffering, and there was nothing we could do, or say, or even think to help her."

"We should go see Dumbledore," Ron said. "If she's going to be doing that every Saturday…"

"What on earth could possibly happen in a dream that would affect someone in real life?" Hermione asked shakily.

* * *

**Alecta:**

I locked myself in an old unused classroom and broke down. I wept bitter tears. I didn't understand. I never did, I never could. I wasn't strong enough.

"Upset, Alecta?"

I jerked automatically at the voice that said my real name. I recognized that voice. "What do you want, Erised?"

"To see what was wrong," the girl said. "You seem so sad. I haven't seen you in _centuries_, since you were here with your father."

"Times change." I muffled my words with the hem of my cloak.

"But you don't," she said sadly. "Saturday night fever, huh?"

"You don't know the half of it. What're you doing out of your mirror?"

"Coming to see you. We used to be good friends, you know," said the fourteen-year-old. "And then you died."

"But then I came back," I said very quietly.

"You came back," she agreed.

"How are you?"

"I'm spectacular," she said, her gold eyes glowing. "Let's see…I met that Harry Potter boy two years ago, James and Lily's son?"

"I know him. He's a friend of mine."

"He has one of the purest hearts I've ever seen," she said. "A bit like yours, I think. You two will be great friends."

"But nothing more?" I teased.

"No," she said. "Nothing more. He has his love, and you have yours."

"That's right!" I said, grinning. "He's going to fall in love with Ginny!"

"Is he? Ginny who?"

"Ginny Weasley. But…but then what happens? I saw the beginning of Ginny's marriage, but I didn't see who the groom was. No clues, either."

"I don't know, Alecta. But I do know this: everything will work out. Hey, come visit my mirror?"

"Why not?" I grinned, and walked over to the huge, gold, mirror.

"_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_," she recited.

"I show not your face, but your heart's desire," I laughed.

"My creator liked a good laugh," Erised admitted. "But he was very clever."

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. "God, I look like crap."

"Yeah…"

"Thanks so much." I saw the usual image; my friends standing around me. Hailey and Ben were next to me, their arms around my shoulders. Sara Liset and Nathaniel Hufflepuff were standing in the back left, snogging each others brains out. Hamish Hufflepuff, Hailey's twin, and Silen Slytherin, were laughing (or in Silen's case, smirking) at the happy couple. In the far right, I saw the four founders and my mother standing and watching us with smiles on their faces.

My breath caught in my throat.

"We all want what we can't have, huh?" Erised asked, sitting next to me. "I miss them too. They were amazing friends. Even your idiotic cousin."

"Silen? I know."

But the picture was changing. Slowly, my friends were disappearing, to be replaced by others. Others I knew well. Where Hailey and Ben had been, Fred and George Weasley were. But instead of their arms around my shoulders, George's arm was around my waist, and Fred was snickering behind his hand. On the other side of George, Ginny and Harry were talking animatedly, their hands motioning various Quidditch plays. I saw minute blushes creeping up their necks. I grinned.

On Fred's opposite side, Ron and Hermione were bickering. But not fighting, just playful teasing. Not something usual.

And where my parents and the other three founders had been, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley now stood.

I looked at Erised. "What's this?"

"I don't know," she said, and she looked confused. "I've never heard of someone's deepest desire changing before. Maybe you're seeing more of the future?"

My eyes roved over George's hand on my waist. "And…him?"

"Maybe he's the love you've been looking for all these centuries," she said.

"Yeah, maybe," I responded, rolling my eyes.

I spent the rest of the night talking to her, not pausing until dawn.

* * *

**Harry:**

"Professor Dumbledore!" cried Hermione, breathless.

"Miss Granger," he said, "what are you four doing out of bed at this late hour?"

It's Nicci, sir," she replied. "She was thrashing around in her sleep…She has bruises all over her body, and she broke two bones, and she was in bed the entire time! What's going _on_ with her?"

"Well, the answer depends on how much you want to know the truth," he said severely. "You may not want to know."

"We want to know," I told him. "It was the most terrifying thing I've ever heard."

"Into my office, then," he said, stepping aside and saying 'Fizzing Whizbees' to the gargoyle. We stepped up into his office, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron taking it in. I realized they'd never been here before.

He sat behind his desk, and looked at us sternly. "What I tell you four here will be in complete confidence. I do not expect you to abuse this knowledge in any way. Understand?"

We all nodded.

Dumbledore sighed. "Miss Lonsen has a rare gift. Not just rare, one-of-a-kind. She can see the future in her dreams. Little snippets of things to come."

"Like…real Divination?" Hermione asked in interest.

"Not at all," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "More like…prophetic dreams. But a powerful gift like that comes with a price."

"The bruises and broken bones?"

"Exactly," he said, answering Ginny's question. "The pain is a reminder that she is not allowed to abuse _her_ knowledge. The broken bones are when something truly pivotal happens in her life. Someone dying…someone dating, perhaps." His eyes twinkled again. "But I must advise you not to ask her what she's seen. If she wants you to know, she _will_ tell you."

* * *

**Alecta:**

"I've got to go to breakfast," I finally said to Erised.

"Good luck," she told me. She frowned at my sleep attire and snapped her fingers. My sleepwear turned into a pair of jeans and a short sleeved shirt. I saw for the first time the scratches and scars that ran up my translucent-looking skin. My face, like always, was perfectly fine, but my broken elbow and wrist were now burning with pain. Stupid reminders. "Come and visit me sometime," she called after me as I staggered out of the room.

I slowly pulled myself upright and refused to let the pain affect my walk. So I tensed my muscles and walked perfectly upright. At the entrance to the Great Hall I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the gasps.

I took another look at my arms and gingerly touched my left elbow. It hurt. And my right wrist was definitely out of the question.

I walked in through the doors and—lo, and behold—people gasped. It was almost as one. I sat down at the Gryffindor table next to George and my memories of the Mirror of Erised from a few hours ago made me blush. Stupid girl.

"Nicci! Are you all right?" asked Ginny, obviously panicked. "Stupid question," she groaned.

"I'm fine," I said, not touching anything on the table.

"Right, you broke your elbow and wrist," she remembered. "Go see Madam Pomfrey!"

"Won't do any good," I said, carefully picking up a piece of toast with my left hand.

"Why on earth not?" asked Ron. "You're hurt, and Madam Pomfrey is the nurse!"

"My, er, wounds won't heal until midnight tonight. They're enchanted to be that way."

Everyone stared at me. "You're joking," Ron said finally.

"Nope."

* * *

"I don't see how that's going to work, Erised," I said to the girl next to me. "I've endured stares all freaking day. I heard rumors about how I went off to fight a dragon! And I went to the Forbidden Forest and nearly died from a werewolf attack! It's insane, Erised! I can't _take_ it anymore."

"They're thinking about decreasing it," Erised told me matter-of-factly. "You can't have these kinds of dreams every Saturday night; it'll drive everyone in your House crazy."

"What would they decrease it to?" I asked.

"Once or twice a month," she said. "Because once you start aging again, it'll only be twice a year."

"Twice a _year_? You've got to be kidding me!"

"I'm serious. On the winter and summer solstice," she said. "Oh, look. It's midnight."

As I looked into the mirror, I saw my scars were healing before our eyes. The bruises were fading, white replacing the ugly purple and blue. My wrist and elbow straightened out with two resounding cracks. I grinned.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," I decided. "I've got a feeling I'll sleep well tonight. See you later, Erised."

"See you, Nicci."

I picked myself up off the floor and walked quietly back to Gryffindor Tower. I entered the common room only to find Fred and George sitting on the couch, working on something furiously. "What're you doing?" I asked suspiciously.

"Nicci! Oh, noth—" George's hasty explanation was cut off as he turned around to look at me. "The scars…the bruises—Where'd they go?"

"I told you," I smirked. "They're healed at midnight. It's only one day, you two. So, what're you two working on?"

"Oh, nothing," Fred said, carefully hiding something behind his back.

"If it's nothing, then why're you hiding it behind your back?" I asked, sitting down next to George. "It wouldn't happen to be illegal, would it?"

They both laughed. "No, it's not illegal," George told me.

"Then you can show me," I insisted.

"Fine," Fred said. "But if you tell our mum, we'll have to kill you."

"I don't really know your mum," I said. _Not yet, anyway._ "Besides, I don't do things like that."

"How can we be sure?"

"Do you really think someone who was involved in an illegal assassination mission would tell your mum what you're up to?"

They exchanged looks. "No, probably not," Fred admitted.

"Then show me," I said.

"Fine," Fred said, pulling a small toffee-like thing out from behind his back. "This, dear Nicci, is a Ton-Tongue Toffee."

"What does it do?" I asked interestedly.

"Well, when we finish it, it should make your tongue grow out to about ten feet."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Instead of growing out long, it's growing out wide," George explained. "And it's only going about three feet, which is actually very lucky. And it's really painful," he added.

"Try adding a pinch of straight-up wormwood," I said. "If you any more than necessary, it'll make your tongue numb—add too much, and it'll stay numb permanently, but if you add just a tiny bit, it shouldn't hurt."

"Hey, thanks, Nicci!" George said. "We'll try it!"

"Uh-huh." I yawned and stood up. "You know, I'm going to go to bed. If you have any more questions or problems, come find me some time. The idea's really clever," I admitted. "Just make sure I'm not around Hermione when you ask."

They grinned. "We'll be sure to do that," they said as one.

I blinked. "That was weird," I said. Then I considered. "Or maybe I'm just really tired. Good night."

I went upstairs to bed before they could say 'good night' at the same time too.

* * *

I couldn't believe it was already October. The past few weeks had flown by so quickly I felt like the only intervals were Saturday nights. After my disastrous first Saturday, I'd taken to locking myself in Erised's room every Saturday night, to return with bruises on Sunday morning. Unusually, I found the dreams completely worthwhile. The little snippets of Harry and Ginny's (and Ron and Hermione's! Shriek!) love lives were so annoyingly satisfying I found myself hitting myself in the head to stop me thinking back on them.

…Ah, here we go again.

"_Harry, can you come in here a moment?"_

_Ginny was about to make her move. Aw, my little girl was all grown up! I watched Hermione drag Ron up the steps and I turned to follow…but I couldn't. Call me sick, but I wanted to know what happened in there. Not to tell Ron, far from it, but to see how dense Harry was being, breaking up with her, even though he knew perfectly well how damn head-over-heels in love with her he was. And vica versa._

_I hid under my invisibility cloak and slipped inside._

"_So then I thought, I'd like you to have something to remember me by, you know, if you meet some veela when you're off doing whatever you're doing."_

"_I think dating opportunities are going to be pretty thin on the ground, to be honest." Harry, I'm so proud of you. After spending four years around me and taking those subtle lessons on what to say to a girl, you have finally achieved not looking like a bumbling idiot. I'm wiping a non-existent tear from my eye, I swear!_

"_There's the silver lining I've been looking for," she whispered, and then she kissed him. It was almost sad how immediate his response was. (Sad being pathetic, not sorrowful.) He instantly put one hand on her back and one in her hair. It was obvious how _not over_ her he was, and how he'd _never_ be over her. And she'd never be over him. They were a perfect couple, really._

_And I'm rambling._

That one was (and is) definitely my favorite. Aw…Isn't it just _adorable_?

I've started crying from happiness, right here in the middle of the common room. I am so pathetic. Hey, look! Harry's coming in.

"What's happened?" he asked us, still in his Quidditch robes.

"First Hogsmeade weekend," Ron said, pointing at the bulletin board. "End of October. Halloween." Ah. No wonder everyone seemed so excited.

"Excellent," said Fred, who'd clambered into the common room behind Harry. "I need to visit Zonko's. I'm nearly out of Stink Pellets."

"You and Stink Pellets are two things that should never go together," I told him. Fred laughed and flopped down into a chair. George came over and sat down in-between me and him. Harry threw himself into a chair on my other side.

"Harry, I'm sure you'll be able to go next time," said Hermione. "They're bound to catch Black soon. He's been sighted once already."

I said nothing.

"Black's not fool enough to try anything in Hogsmeade," Ron said. "Ask McGonagall if you can go this time, Harry. The next one might not be for ages—"

"Ron! Harry's supposed to stay _in school_—"

"He can't be the only third year left behind," said Ron.

"He won't be," I put in. "I'm not going either."

"Didn't you ask your parents?" George asked.

"I don't have parents," I snapped. "I don't have guardians either. Who was I supposed to ask?"

"Right. Well, then, both of you should ask McGonagall," cut in Ron. "Ask McGonagall, Harry, go on—"

"Yeah, I think I will," he said.

I rolled my eyes, but once again said nothing.

At that moment, Crookshanks came in with a dead spider dangling from his mouth. This was just a recipe for disaster, so I resolved to go to bed and avoid all arguing. But not before writing Sirius.

I went up the stairs and pulled out some parchment and a quill. Yawning, I got some ink from Ginny's bedside and began to write:

_Dear Sirius,_

_How are you? I haven't seen you in a month, since we talked in September. I hope you're well. I'm sending a truckload of food with Thaniel to make up for my terrible companionship. Lupin's well, too. He's actually a very good teacher; I'm surprised. Never thought that someone friends with you could actually be successful in life._

_Joking._

_There's a Hogsmeade trip at the end of the month, on Halloween. Harry's not going though, so don't get your hopes up. I'm not going either. Haven't had parents in three years, so I don't know who'd sign my permission slip. Ah, well._

_See you later,_

Nicci Lonsen


	8. Chapter 7: Through the Seasons

**Chapter 7: Through the Seasons**

**Alecta:**

I grabbed Ginny's hand and dragged her away from Luna Lovegood, who she'd been talking to for an hour. The Hogsmeade trip was over, and I'd spent most of the day talking to Ginny about schoolwork, boys (much to my displeasure), non-sensical things, like if making a musical get-well card was a good idea, and Ginny's family. I learned a lot about the Burrow. Oh, and Ginny tried to weasel (no pun intended) future secrets out of me.

When Ginny'd started talking to Luna, I'd gone to find Harry, who was just leaving Professor Lupin's office. Aw! James's school buddy conversing with his son. Wait, no…Weird.

"Come _on_, Ginny!" I cried. "If we don't leave, I'll go to bed late, and then I'll _never_ tell you _anything_ about…" I paused for dramatic effect. "…the future," I said in a creepy voice, rounding off the idiocy with an evil low cackle.

Ginny arched an eyebrow. I grinned cheekily, and she rolled her eyes. It was actually quite funny how close we'd gotten over September and October. We'd gotten to the point where we could hold conversations without saying anything. She gave me that look that said, 'if you don't shut up now, I'm going to curse you.'

I stuck my tongue out at her, and ran to catch up with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were nearly seated. I slid in next to Hermione and grabbed a bunch of food. As soon as I started eating, I realized I was starving. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, because Ginny had 'accidentally' spilled an entire cup of pumpkin juice down her shirt. She said it'd been an accident, but personally, I thought it was a side affect of the so-called, 'Potter-it is.'

Of course, Ginny'd screamed, and dragged me up to the girls dormitory to change just as I was about to take my first bite. By the time we got back downstairs, the food had disappeared.

Just as dinner was ending, Malfoy found it completely necessary to call across the hall, "The dementors send their love, Potter!"

"You know them?" I yelled back, feigning surprise. "Is that why you haven't got a soul, then?"

Malfoy shut up after that.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, but when we reached the corridor of the Fat Lady's portrait, the place was jam-packed with students.

"Why isn't anyone going in?" Ron asked.

"Oi!" whispered a ghost's voice. I whirled around to see Ben looking at me. "Listen, I've got your ghost form. Switch up and hide your human self. Then come back down the hallway."

"We need to come up with a better name than 'ghost form'," I said thoughtfully, as we hid in an alcove.

"Is this _really_ the time?" groaned Ben.

"I don't see why not."

"You're hopeless."

I grinned and, as Alecta, floated back down to the end of the corridor. I then started to make my way back in, looking amusedly at the picture. Dumbledore, with McGonagall and Percy were staring at the portrait of the Fat Lady. Except there were gashes in it; long, running gashes. Looked like someone'd attacked the Fat Lady's portrait with a knife.

"We need to find her," said Dumbledore. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" said a cackling voice.

"Peeves," I said in a warning tone.

"Sorry, Miss Gryffindor," he said greasily, sweeping around me, not dropping the delighted look at the wreckage and worry.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" asked Dumbledore calmly.

Peeves cast Dumbledore one look, then returned to his former greasy tone. "Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something terrible," he said. "Poor thing," he added as an afterthought.

"Did she say who did it?"

"Oh, yes, Professorhead," said Peeves. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see. Nasty temper he's got, Sirius Black."

I stared. I was going to have a _serious_ talk with that man. And maybe even curse him a couple times.

Dumbledore stared at the portrait thoughtfully, then turned back to the students. "Miss Lonsen? Miss Lonsen, could you please step forward."

"Nicci's not here right now," I said, trying to keep a straight face.

"Where is she?"

"If you're going to interrogate her about Sirius—"

"We need to know this information, Alecta!"

"I'm not going to tell you anything."

**Harry:**

I stared in amazement as a ghost and Professor Dumbledore got into an argument. They both looked angry, determined, and stubborn. Next to me, Ron and Hermione looked up at the ghost with admiration. Nobody talked to Dumbledore like that.

"We need to know the whereabouts of Sirius Black!" thundered Dumbledore.

"Why do you think _she_ knows? Are you suspecting her of helping him into this castle?"

"No," said Dumbledore, calming down with obvious effort. "But she is the only person in the entire school who has seen Black since he was sent to Azkaban."

"Even if she did know, why would she tell any of you?" snapped Alecta. "He was a much better friend to her than any of you lot! That's pathetic, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore paled. "Then I will find her and ask her."

"Won't do you any good." Alecta tossed her head. "She built up a resistance to every truth potion known to mankind after Azkaban. Including Veritaserum. And she's been able to throw off the Imperius Curse since she was six."

Dumbledore stared at her.

"Listen to me," said Alecta. "Nicci hasn't been in contact with Sirius since Azkaban. She has no idea where he is. Leave her alone."

"Then why'd she run off?" asked Percy.

Alecta glared at him, and I was surprised that he didn't cower and back away. "Because she knew this would happen! Because _she_, unlike _you_," here she glared at Dumbledore, "isn't an _idiot_."

"How can you be sure?" asked Dumbledore quietly.

"Did you know, that when I was ten, my mother was killed by the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets? I had the chance to kill it, when I went down there to find her. But I didn't. And, even after all this time, I have never regretted my choice." She shot a glance at me, but it was not unkind. "_That_ is how sure I am."

She turned around and stalked off. Well, floated, really.

**Alecta:**

I went to see Erised first. She sat with me while I cried silently, my hands around my knees like a little girl. Why couldn't I ever be normal? I didn't even know _why_ I was crying. I'd gone through the necessary motions. I'd changed back into my human self and immediately went to Erised's room. I couldn't even bring myself to look in the mirror, because I was terrified of who I'd see.

"Fancy meeting you here, Nicci," said a quiet voice behind me.

I didn't even have to look up to know it was Dumbledore. "What do you want?" I asked. "Because I already told you, I don't know about Sirius."

"Did you mean what you said, Nicci, about him being a better friend than any of us?" he asked me.

I stood up and faced him. "Yes, I did," I snapped. "He was _always_ the better friend. He was the one who was with me in Azkaban. I didn't hear about any of you breaking your necks trying to get me out."

And with that, I stalked out of the room.

* * *

I avoided Dumbledore at all costs after that. It was already Christmas, and I still hadn't talked to him. I'd been spending a lot of time with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny lately though; Ginny had had plenty to talk about, what with Harry falling off his broom at the previous Quidditch game. I'd acted of course; sending my lion Patronus out at them, snapping and tearing. Thankfully, no one had seen.

Then Harry'd gotten the Marauder's Map (probably from Fred and George) and had snuck into Hogsmeade with me. But I'd gone to the Shrieking Shack and had missed something, because now Harry's face contorted with rage whenever someone said Sirius's name. It didn't make sense. What on _earth_ had happened?

On Christmas morning, I went up to the boys dorm after receiving a midnight blue sweater and a box of Christmas cake and fudge from Mrs. Weasley (Ginny'd probably written her), an array of suspicious-looking candy from Fred and George (which I'd probably never eat), a box of Chocolate Frogs and Cauldron Cakes from Ginny, and a book on cooking from Sirius. I'd been about to go to the Whomping Willow and murder him, when I realized it hid my actual present of an ornate necklace, which I realized must've cost a fortune.

The necklace was beautiful; gold, with silver twining around it like a snake. Rubies and emeralds were embedded into it too, but it was not flashy. It was just my style. I vowed then and there that I would never hurt Sirius, no matter how much I wanted to.

When I walked in, Ron and Harry were staring at something in Harry's hands. "What's up, guys?" I asked cautiously. "Did something happen?"

Just as I said it, whatever it was started humming and hung in midair, and I caught sight of it. It was a Firebolt. That broom Harry'd been staring at the entire time we were in Diagon Alley. "Wow."

"Who sent it to you?" asked Ron reverently.

"Look and see if there's a card," said Harry.

I already knew exactly who'd sent Harry the Firebolt. I also knew there'd be no card. This was confirmed a second later, when Ron said, "Nothing! Blimey, who'd spend that much on you?"

"Well," said Harry, looking stunned, "I'm betting it wasn't the Dursleys."

"No kidding," I said, looking at it.

"I bet it was Dumbledore," said Ron. "He sent you the Invisibility Cloak anonymously…"

"Ron, that was my dad's. He didn't buy it for me, he just passed it on. He wouldn't spend hundreds of Galleons on me."

"So…what about Lupin?"

"_Lupin_? Ron, that's ridiculous."

"If Lupin had that much gold, he'd buy himself some new robes."

"Yeah, stop Malfoy's idiotic comments—" I snorted.

"_Malfoy_!" Ron gave a whoop of laughter. "Wait till he sees you on this! He'll be sick as a pig! This is an _international_ standard broom, this is!"

"You're really into this, aren't you?" I asked him. Ron didn't stop laughing, and after a moment, Harry and I joined in.

"What're you three laughing about?"

Hermione had just walked in, holding Crookshanks. "Nicci, there're letters for you on your bed. One from Fred and George, one from Ginny, and one that's unsigned."

"What do Fred, George, _and_ Ginny want with you?" questioned Ron.

"Well, I offered to help Fred and George with something," I said. "And in case you hadn't noticed, Ron, I'm friends with Ginny."

"Oh, well…"

"I'll see you guys in a second. Just let me grab my letters and some parchment." I ran out of the room.

When I came back about three minutes later, Ron was yelling at Hermione, and Crookshanks was sitting on the floor looking for something—probably Scabbers. "GET—HIM—OUT—OF—HERE!"

"Whoah! Calm down! What's going on here?" I asked frantically. "Get who out of where?"

But before anyone could answer my question, a shrill whistling filled the air. The Pocket Sneakoscope had fallen out of Harry's socks and was making an alarming amount of noise.

"I forgot about that!" Harry said, bending over and picking up the offensive tool. "I never wear those socks if I can help it…"

Obviously, Crookshanks didn't like the Sneakoscope very much, he was hissing and spitting at it.

"You'd better take that cat out of here," said Ron furiously. "And shut that thing up, won't you?" he added to Harry.

"Nicci, would you come with me, please?" asked Hermione.

"I…sure," I said, following her out of the room, throwing an apologetic glance at Harry and Ron. "What's wrong, Hermione?"

"It's just…I can't _stand_ Ron, with his superior talk, and that broom—it could be dangerous, couldn't it? And what if it's from Sirius Black, and it's jinxed, and _they_ don't care because it's a bloody broomstick—" Hermione must be seriously upset, because she had just swore—"Sorry. But could it be that maybe, it's not _my_ fault, but his, and he's just an overbearing prat, and—"

"Hermione!"

"But what about that broomstick? What if there's really something wrong with it and someone gets hurt—"

"_Hermione_." This was definite déjà vu.

"But it'd serve Ron right for being such a git—no, what am I _saying_? But why can't he just admit that _sometimes_, it's not my fault and he'd just _apologize_—"

"_Hermione Granger_!"

"What?" she asked.

"You're rambling."

"I know," she said. "But what am I supposed to do?"

"That's up to you," I told her. "You've got to do what you think is right."

"Thanks Nicci," she said, patting me on the shoulder. "Hurry up and respond to those letters so I don't have to sit with _them_ alone." She stalked off.

I decided then and there that Hermione was completely nuts. I also decided not to mess with her on Christmas morning, so I went up to the dormitory to respond to the letters.

_Dear Nics,_

_Happy Christmas, genius-in-training! We miss your smart remarks, attitude flares, and intelligent solutions. So, intelligent solutioner, help us with this problem. We're working on an instant antidote to the Ton-Tongue Toffee (if it doesn't work it takes forty minutes to get rid of), and while the color turns back to normal, we're still having a problem with getting it down to normal size. We're putting in shrivelfig already; is there anything else we should use?_

_See ya later, alligator,_

Gred and Forge

_P.S. Do you like your new nickname? George made it up._

I shook my head at them, laughing, and wrote a quick reply.

_Dear Gred and Forge,_

_No, I hate my new nickname, George. But I know you'll keep using it, so what's the pointing trying to stop you?_

_Try shredding some caterpillars. You know, the ones you use in the Shrinking Solutions? I know they're usually cut, but shredding them simply tastes better. And you get the same desired effect._

_Happy Christmas, boys._

_In a while, crocodile,_

Nicci

I sighed, attached the letter to Thaniel, and moved on to the next one.

_Dear Nicci,_

_I saw Fred and George attaching another letter to Errol. Are they bothering you? If they are, I'll go straighten them out._

_Anyway, Happy Christmas! I hope you got my Chocolate Frogs and Cauldron Cakes; I know they're your favorite. Though my present's definitely second to yours. I love the bracelet. It's so beautiful! Thanks so much!_

_Mum and Dad saw it, and I think they thought I'd gotten it from a boyfriend. But I told them it was from you, and I asked if you could come over this summer. I told them you were an orphan. If you do come, though, you'll have to research some house revision spells, because I don't think my room will be big enough for all of us. Try and see if you can get one to add a bathroom off my room! That'd be so much better._

_I'll see you when I'm back in Hogwarts,_

Ginny

_P.S. Have Fred and George already come up with nicknames for you? On the envelope it said 'Nics'. I feel bad for you. _

I smiled and came down the steps with the letter in my hand. I'd write Sirius later. I gave Hermione the letter, who looked it over and smiled. Obviously, she was still mad at Ron, because she would've started laughing otherwise.

I pulled out my quill again and wrote her back too.

_Dear Ginny,_

_No, Fred and George aren't bothering me. Actually, I told them to owl me if they needed to. Don't straighten them out, it won't do any good. And yes, they've come up with 'Nics' as a nickname. Ahhh!_

_Happy Christmas to you too! I'm sorry if I got a boyfriend-type present, I didn't mean to. Believe me, your present was much better than the twins. They got me a tray of candy I suspect may be dangerous. Probably never going to eat them._

_Tell your mom I said thank you for the sweater, cake, and fudge. It's so nice of her to do that, since I don't even know her._

_Yeah, I'll be sure to look up tons of house refinishing. And I'll look for the concealable kind. We could make a castle in your room, and no one would ever know! Nah, just kidding. We'll have to be careful, though._

_Write me again,_

Nicci

I folded up the letter, handed it off to Thaniel, and sent him on his way. Just as I sat back don, I realized the tension in the common room was very high. Harry appeared to be trying to make conversation between Ron and Hermione, but it didn't seem to be working, because he finally went upstairs and brought down his Firebolt for polishing. I sat down next to him and started talking to him about Quidditch, because Hermione and Ron seemed too bent on hating each other in silence to talk to.

When we finally went downstairs to lunch, things were even more awkward than before, which was saying something. So I ignored all three of them and focused on the Great Hall. It seemed that there was one table, set for twelve, in the center of the room. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape, Sprout, and Filch were all there, Filch wearing an obscenely ugly tailcoat. Two other students were there; a first-year, looking positively terrified, and a Slytherin fifth-year.

"Merry Christmas!" called Dumbledore as we reached the table. "As there are so few of us, it seemed foolish to use House tables…Sit down, sit down!"

I sat down on the side of the table, in between Hermione and the Slytherin boy. "Crackers!" called Dumbledore enthusiastically.

I sighed. It was going to be a long day.

Half an hour later, I was listening to Trelawney spout off information about Lupin's lingering spirit. At least, I think that was what she was talking about.

"Imagine that," McGonagall said dryly.

"I doubt that Professor Lupin is any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Good," said Dumbledore, obviously closing the subject. "Then he should be up and about in no time…Nicci, would you like some chipotlatas? They're excellent."

I glared at him and turned away to talk to Hermione. I could feel the professors eyes on me.

When all the feasts and crackers and celebrations and cheer were over, Harry and Ron got up to leave, which immediately set Trelawney off.

"My dears! Which of you got up first? Which?"

"Dunno," said Ron, looking uneasy. I held back a choking laugh.

"I doubt it will make a difference," said McGonagall coldly, "unless a mad axe-man is waiting to slaughter the first one into the entrance hall."

Everyone laughed loudly. "Coming?" Harry asked Hermione and me.

"Yeah," I said, standing up.

"No," said Hermione quietly. "I want a quick word with Professor McGonagall."

"Probably trying to see if she can take more classes," yawned Ron.

"Somehow," I said, more to myself then them, "I don't think that's it."

When we went through the portrait hole, Harry went straight upstairs to get his Firebolt and I went to finally read my last letter. I sat in a big, fluffy armchair and watched as Harry and Ron examined every inch of the Firebolt. As I was about to open my letter, the portrait hole swung open and Hermione stepped in, closely followed by McGonagall. Hermione almost ran around the boys and grabbed a book. I rolled my eyes.

"So that's it, is it?" asked McGonagall. "Miss Granger has informed me that you have been sent a broomstick, Potter."

I stared at Hermione. Oh boys, she was trouble.

"May I?" She took the broomstick and looked at it carefully. "Hmmm. And there was no note, Potter? No card? No message of any kind?"

"No," said Harry blankly.

"I see…" McGonagall deliberated. "I'm afraid I will have to take this, Potter."

Oh yeah. Hermione was definitely screwed.

"W-what?" asked Harry, getting to his feet. "Why?"

"It will need to be checked for jinxes," said McGonagall. "Of course, I'm no expert, but I daresay Professor Flitwick and Madam Hooch will be able to strip it down."

This was not going well for Hermione. Ron looked like he was going to combust, and then come back and haunt her forever.

"Strip it down?" repeated Ron, almost unable to believe it.

"It shouldn't take more than a few weeks," said McGonagall. "We will return it when we are sure it is entirely jinx-free."

"There's nothing wrong with it!" cried Harry. "Honestly, Professor—"

"You can't know that, Potter," said McGonagall, almost kindly. What on earth had she been drinking? Minerva McGonagall never sounded kind about _anything_. Except maybe something drastic, like death. "Not until you've flown it, at any rate, and I'm afraid that's out of the question until…"

No longer interested in this conversation, I pulled out my letter and finished opening it.

_Nicci,_

_Just a quick note over the Christmas holidays. Merry Christmas! I hope you like the necklace; I thought it suited you. You know Crookshanks? The cat's bloody brilliant! I've never met a cat like him before. Would you happen to know who the owner is?_

_By the way, though I'm sure you have suspicions, I sent Harry the Firebolt. They're probably going to check it for jinxes, aren't they? Damn, I never thought of that._

"_What did you go running to McGonagall for_?"

A voice interrupted my reading, and I looked up. McGonagall had left, leaving Harry standing after her and Ron yelling at Hermione again. I had to admit, this time she was asking for it.

"Because I thought—and Professor McGonagall agrees with me—that that broomstick was sent to Harry by Sirius Black!"

Spot on, Hermione. Good job.

She came over and sat down next to me. Ron stalked off to bed and Harry followed a few seconds later.

"I don't know, Nicci! What was I supposed to do?"

"I'm not sure, Hermione. Maybe not the one thing that'll make Ron more mad at you then before," I said.

"You said to do what I thought was right!"

"I didn't mean that you should get two of your best friends furious at you, though."

"It's just a broomstick!"

"And they're Quidditch-obsessed boys, Hermione. It's like someone taking your favorite book away right after you've read the first two chapters."

"Oh," she said quietly. "But still! There might be something wrong with it!"

"Somehow, I don't think there is," I said back.

"Yeah, well, goodnight Nicci," she said miserably.

I watched her go upstairs, then turned back to Sirius' letter.

_I'm thinking about going to Harry's next match. Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw, right? I'd like to see if Harry is as good a Seeker as James is a Chaser. I've heard Harry's only lost one match, and there were dementors involved somehow. Ah, well. Maybe I'll sneak into the after-party…_

Sirius

* * *

It was Thursday, I knew. Classes were finished for the day, I was tired, and I was walking down the corridor just before dinner, going over the most important of the future I'd discovered.

"_Harry!"_

_He stopped and turned around. Our eyes met as he stared at me. His face was covered with dirt and blood and tears. I knew about Fred. I couldn't—I didn't—how? I just wanted to scream. "Yeah, Nicci?"_

"_It's you, isn't it? The Horcrux." _

"_How did you—"_

"_Know?" I wiped the tears away. "It was obvious."_

"_Are you going to try and stop me?" he asked._

"_No," I told him._

_His face showed shock. "What?"_

"_You have to do everything you can to end this war, Harry. We all do. Just…don't die, will you? Because Ginny will kill you if that happens. Right after she kills me for letting you go."_

_He laughed a humorless laugh. "I'll keep that in mind."_

"_Besides, I know what it means to sacrifice yourself for something you love."_

"_How?"_

_It was my turn to laugh. "I'll cut you a deal," I told him. "You come back alive…I'll tell you sometime."_

"_Sometime being within the week?"_

"_Sure."_

What had been going on there? What was wrong with Fred? And what the bloody hell was a Horcrux?

I was snapped out of my musings by Lupin, who said, "Nicci? Hello? _Nicci_!"

"Huh? Oh, hi! What can I do for you, Professor?"

"I need your help."

"With what?"

"Harry's been having practices with me on the Patronus charm, and I know you can produce a full one. So, I want you to help me tonight."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, Nicci, seriously. Just come along with Harry."

"Sure," I said, grabbing a book from Ginny as I sat down at dinner.

"Thank you." He strode off.

"You can perform the Patronus charm?" asked Ginny, trying to steal the book back.

"Sure," I said.

"What form does it take?"

"Panther," I told her, giving her the book.

"Nice."

An hour later, I saw Harry get up and head for the portrait hole, and I followed after him. "See you, Nicci!" called Ginny behind me.

"Hey! Harry! Wait up!"

"Nicci?" he asked, slowing down.

"Yep," I said cheerfully.

"What're you doing here?"

"Apparently, I'm to be helping you with your Patronus tonight."

He stared at me. "You're joking."

"Nope, sorry. Lupin cornered me in the corridor."

When we got there, Harry was putting up a marvelous effort against the boggart. But it seemed like he was frustrated and angry every time he stopped fighting. And not your normal anger and frustration. It seemed like something else was bothering him.

"You're expecting too much of yourself," said Lupin halfway through the lesson. "For a thirteen-year-old wizard, even an indistinct Patronus is a huge achievement. You aren't passing out anymore, are you?"

"You passed out?" I asked from my place on a crate.

"I thought a Patronus would—charge the dementors down or something," said Harry, looking down. "Make them disappear—"

"A true Patronus does do that," I told him. "But this is really great for four weeks, Harry. Don't beat yourself up about it."

"I have complete confidence in you," said Lupin, smiling. "Here—you've earned a drink—something from the Three Broomsticks. You won't have tried it before—"

"Butterbeer!" cried Harry. "Yeah, I like that stuff!"

I elbowed him in the gut. "Ron and Hermione brought us back some," I lied.

"I see," said Lupin. He still looked suspicious. "Well—let's drink to a Gryffindor victory against Ravenclaw! Not that I'm supposed to take sides, as a teacher…" he added hastily. "Nicci, do you play any Quidditch?"

"A bit," I said.

"Well, you should. Alexis Findor and James Potter were two of Gryffindor's star players in their day." He shook his head sadly.

We drank butterbeer in silence for awhile before Harry asked, "What's under a dementor's hood?"

I shuddered. Lupin looked at me before answering, "Hmm…well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the dementor lowers its hood only to use its last and best weapon."

"What's that?"

"They call it the Dementor's Kiss," said Lupin, with a slightly twisted smile. I looked away. "It's what dementors do to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and—and suck out his soul."

I watched Harry spit out some butterbeer. "What—they kill—?"

"Oh no," said Lupin. "Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no…anything. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just—"

"Exist," I finished, nodding my head. "An empty shell. No life left…and no chance of regaining your soul."

"It's the fate that awaits Sirius Black," continued Lupin. I stared at him. No…I thought he'd just go back to…_damn it_. "It was in the _Daily Prophet_ this morning. The Ministry have given the dementors permission to perform it if they find him."

"_What_?" I shrieked, jumping up.

"He deserves it," said Harry suddenly.

"_What_?" I cried again.

"You think so?" asked Lupin thoughtfully. "Do you really think anyone deserves that?"

"No," I responded immediately.

"Yes," said Harry. "For…for some things…"

"Harry!" I said, rounding on him. "Do you really think anyone deserves that? To have their life sucked away? To have no chance at living again, no chance at redemption? Just…just a shadow? Because if you do, then you're _sick_. I watched a dementor perform a Kiss. I watched someone have their life sucked away before my eyes. _No one_ deserves that."

I got up and left the room, leaving Harry looking dumbfounded behind me.


	9. Chapter 8: Foreshadowing Failures

**Chapter 8: Foreshadowing Failures**

Well, it was over. Done. Finished. And Gryffindor had just won the Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw match. I would've been extremely happy about this, except for the fact that I was sitting next to Hermione, who looked slightly crazy. It was hard to be happy when you were sitting next to Hermione doing homework. I knew she was doing way too much, and I didn't know why she wouldn't just hand a subject in.

But no. Hermione was much too stubborn for that. So I was sitting with her while she tried to finish obscenely large amounts of homework. After another five minutes, I groaned and got up from my seat and went over to Fred and George, who were juggling butterbeer bottles.

"Nice Beating," I told them, grinning.

"'Nice Beating'? We win a pivotal match, and the best thing you have to say is _nice Beating_?" George asked me, jumping off the table and coming over to me.

I tossed my head. "Do you have a problem with that, Weasley?"

"I might, Lonsen."

"O-_ho_! And what might that be?"

"Well, you could've been a little more enthusiastic," he said, batting his eyes.

I rolled my eyes. "You are _so_ full of yourself."

"It's a—" I would've bet anything that he'd been about to 'gift', but at that moment, Ron said, "If Scabbers hadn't just been _eaten_, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them—"

I turned over to where Hermione was sitting to see her start crying and run up the stairs. Harry turned to look at me with a frustrated expression on his face, and I decided I was going to have a little talk with Ron. I said "see you later" to George and walked over to Ron and Harry, who were standing together, talking.

"Can't you just give her a break?" Harry asked Ron.

"No," said Ron.

"Oh, c'mon, Ron," I said, joining them. "You know she's upset. And that rat was incredibly useless, anyhow."

"If she just acted like she was sorry—" Ron continued, completely ignoring me, "but she'll never admit she's wrong, Hermione. She's still acting like Scabbers has gone on vacation or something."

"It's a rat!" I cried. "Really not all that crucial, Ron!"

He was still ignoring me. I sighed, shook my head, and walked over to where Ginny was sitting by the fire, sipping butterbeer and watching Fred and George do something ridiculous and stupid.

"AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

I jerked awake from my armchair, where I'd fallen asleep earlier. At least I _thought_ it was earlier.

"Nicci!" someone hissed.

"Wha—?"

"Nicci! It's Sirius!"

"Sirius!" I whisper-shrieked, scrambling off my chair. "What're you _doing_ here?"

"Long story. Listen, I've got about thirty seconds until the entire Gryffindor house comes down here, so I need you to help me."

"What did you do?" I asked him.

"I'll explain everything later. I need you to pretend I'm Thaniel, your shape-shifting puppy, all right?"

"You want me to do what?"

"Just do it!" he hissed at me. Steps were sounding at the top of the stairs. Sirius turned into the big, black dog and sat down on the ground. I petted him from my chair, and decided to help him out. At least until I found out what was going on.

"Who shouted?"

"What're you doing?"

"Nicci!" I recognized Harry's voice. "Listen, did you see anyone leave the common room?"

"No," I answered truthfully. "I just woke up when I heard someone scream."

"That was Ron. Did you happen to see Black?"

"Sirius Black?" I asked, and he nodded. "No," I lied. "Why? What happened?"

"Ron says he saw Black stand over him with a knife."

I kicked Sirius. "Any damage?"

"Well, the curtains are torn and the bed is too…Oh, hey, Thaniel. Didn't see you there."

Sirius barked.

"Excellent, are we carrying on?" asked Fred happily.

"What? No," I said, standing up.

"Everyone back upstairs!" cried Percy, running down the stairs. I snorted. Fat chance.

"Perce—Sirius Black!" said Ron faintly. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

"Nonsense!" said Percy. "You had too much to eat, Ron—had a nightmare—"

"I'm telling you—"

"Now, really, enough's enough!"

McGonagall was back in the common room, slamming the portrait behind her. I smiled brightly at her.

"I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is getting ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!"

"I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" said Percy, looking indignant. "I was just telling them to get back to bed! My brother Ron had a nightmare—"

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron yelled. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME WITH A KNIFE!"

I slipped through people and stood in-between Harry and Hermione, Sirius at my heels. Hermione absentmindedly reached his hand down and stroked Sirius's head.

"Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he get through the portrait hole?"

"Why don't we _ask_ the portrait hole?" I suggested, because Ron looked on the verge of yelling again.

McGonagall looked suspiciously at Ron, then at me, and made her way back over to the portrait of Sir Cadogen. The entire room was silent, listening for an answer.

"Sir Cadogen, did you just let a man enter the Gryffindor Tower?"

"Certainly, good lady!"

I had an amused smirk on my face.

"You—you _did_?" asked McGonagall. "But—but the password!"

"He had 'em!" said Sir Cadogen. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

McGonagall came back into the common room, white-faced and tight-lipped. "Which person?"she asked, voice shaking, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

A very frightened Neville Longbottom raised his hand, shaking from head to toe. I watched with sympathy and a bit of pity. But I had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Well," I said, pushing through the crowd. "I have to bring Thaniel back to the Owlery, so—excuse me—"

"No, Miss Lonsen," McGonagall told me, stepping in front of me. "You aren't going anywhere."

I stared at her. "You think I can't take care of myself?"

"Miss Lonsen, he has a _knife_!"

"And I have a _wand_!" I cried. I looked at her stubborn face. "Fine. But then he has to sleep in the girl's dorm. Thaniel can't shape-shift at night."

McGonagall sighed. "Then he will sleep in the girl's dorm."

I stalked off to my armchair, Sirius following close behind.

**A/N:** Sorry, I know this was a really short chapter, but I thought it was important enough to be on it's own. I've already started the next chapter, so it'll be up either today or tomorrow. Almost done with _Prisoner of Azkaban_, yes! Then I'll move on to _Goblet of Fire_. See you!


	10. Chapter 9: Hagrid's Advice

**Chapter 9: Hagrid's Advice**

**Harry:**

Two days after the Black break-in, the school was still buzzing. I was watching Neville get chased out of the Great Hall by a Howler from his grandmother, when Nicci told me I had a letter. Hedwig backed her up by biting my wrist.

"Ouch! Oh—thanks, Hedwig."

The note inside said:

"Dear Harry, Ron, and Nicci,

How about having tea with me this afternoon 'round six? I'll come and collect you from the castle. WAIT FOR ME IN THE ENTRANCE HALL; YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED OUT ON YOUR OWN.

Cheers,

Hagrid."

"He probably wants to hear about Black!" said Ron.

"I don't think that's it," said Nicci thoughtfully.

So that evening at six, Ron, Nicci, and I left the Gryffindor tower, passed the security trolls at a run, and made our way down to the entrance hall.

Hagrid was already waiting for us.

"All right, Hagrid!" said Ron. "S'pose you want to hear about Saturday night, do you?"

"I've already heard all abou' it," said Hagrid, opening the door.

Nicci snickered into her arm as Ron said, "Oh."

When we were inside Hagrid's cabin, after passing Buckbeak and his plate of dead ferrets, Hagrid poured us tea and offered us Bath buns, which we all politely declined.

"I got somethin' ter discuss with you three," said Hagrid.

Nicci leaned back in her chair. "I _knew_ that this was what it was about."

Hagrid shot her an appreciative glance. "Smart girl, you."

"What?" I asked.

"Hermione," said Hagrid.

"What about her?" said Ron.

"She's in a righ' state, that's what. I know Nicci's bin talkin' to her, but yeh've been spendin' so much time with Ginny Weasley an' these two. She's bin comin' down ter visit me a lot since Chris'mas. Bin feelin' lonely. Firs' yeh weren' talking to her because o' the Firebolt, now yer not talkin' to her because her cat—"

"—ate Scabbers!" Ron interjected angrily.

"I don't think that's fair, Ron," said Nicci. "Crookshanks is a cat. Scabbers is, or was, a rat. That's what cats do. And you can't expect her to keep her cat locked up all the time; that's not fair to either of them. Her pet has just as much right to run around as yours does."

Hagrid nodded. "I thought you two'd value yer friend more'n broomsticks or rats. Tha's all."

Ron and I exchanged uncomfortable looks.

"Really upset, she was, when Black nearly stabbed yeh, Ron…" I drifted out of the conversation for a second as I saw Nicci's expression shift a bit when Black arrived in the conversation. It seemed as though she wanted to say something, but she refused to do so. As if she knew we were wrong, but didn't think she should correct us.

"If she'd just get rid of that cat, I'd speak to her again!" Ron said angrily. "But she's still sticking up for it! It's a maniac, and she won't hear a word against it!"

"Ah, well, people can be a bit stupid about their pets," said Hagrid wisely.

We spent the rest of the time talking about Gryffindor's improved chances for the Quidditch cup. Nicci was surprisingly good at Quidditch talk and terms, and I had a feeling she'd be a good Quidditch player.

It was nine o' clock when we finally went back to the castle.

* * *

**Alecta:**

Saturday morning, Harry asked me if I wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him, but I said no. I decided to spend the morning with Ginny, who looked bored and tired. "Hey," I said, plopping down next to her.

"Hi," she said. "What're you doing here? I thought you'd be sneaking into Hogsmeade?"

"Nah," I said. "Not in the mood. So, how're your classes?"

"Good," she told me. "Better then last year."

"I can imagine."

"Mm-hm. What d'you think about Divination for a course next year?"

"Not a good idea. I've seen Hermione in class lately, and she looks like she's about to explode. I'd go with Arithmancy or Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures. Maybe even Muggle Studies."

"Hmm…Well, I'm definitely doing Care of Magical Creatures. Charlie really liked it, and I like Hagrid a lot too. I think I'll do Muggle Studies too. I'd like to finally understand what Dad's talking about."

"That's a good idea," I said.

"Do you know _anything_ about muggles?"

"'Course I do," I said. "I spent almost three years with muggles. And my parents lived in a muggle community, so I picked up a ton there." _Nicci, you're officially lying through your teeth. _Well, I did know a ton about muggles. I just hadn't grown up anywhere near them.

"Really?" Ginny asked. "So you'd help me with course work?"

"Sure."

"Wow, Nicci," said Ginny. "You know housework spells, you know muggles _and_ magic, and you're absolutely brilliant. I think Mum and Dad are going to replace me with you."

I laughed. "They couldn't. I don't look anything like them."

She sent me an offended glare. "Thanks, Nicci."

"Oh, was I supposed to say something to convince you you're the best daughter in the world?" She slapped me in the arm. "I'm _joking_, Ginny."

"You're the worst sister in the world."

I stared at her in surprise.

She looked back at me and gasped. "Oh! I forgot to tell you! Mum and Dad decided to go talk to Dumbledore about adopting you until you're of age."

"And you're _just now_ telling me this? How could you possibly forget something like that?"

"I'm sorry! I was busy with school work and it completely slipped my mind."

I turned away from her in mock anger.

"Y'know, two can play at that game, Nicci."

* * *

Three hours later, Ron ran into the common room, completely out of breath. "Nicci," he gasped out. "Need you—to help me—Harry and—Malfoy."

"Why?" I asked, getting up and walking over to him. "What's wrong? What happened with Harry and Malfoy?"

"He saw his head."

"Who saw who's head?"

"Malfoy…Harry's head…from underneath the invisibility cloak…" he choked.

"Oh no." I took off from the common room, dragging Ron by his arm. We reached Snape's office and Ron burst in.

"I—gave—Harry—that—stuff," he said, still completely out of breath. "Bought it—in Zonko's…ages ago…"

I walked in behind him to see Lupin, Snape and Harry standing around the Marauder's Map. At the sight of me, they both relaxed and stepped away from Harry.

"What's going on?" I asked, my voice edging on annoyance. "I'm in the common room, and Ron comes bursting in and tells me that Malfoy saw Harry's head in Hogsmeade, and that Snape was going to yell at Harry. But I don't see how Harry could've been with Malfoy at Hogsmeade, because Harry's been with me all day."

Ron and Harry both stared at me, and then tried to act as though they knew this already.

Snape sneered. "How odd. I found Potter on the third floor, by the statue of the one-eyed witch."

"Harry ran into Neville earlier there and dropped a book. He only left ten or fifteen minutes ago."

"How did you know Potter ran into Longbottom there?"

"Because I'm a Seer," I said sarcastically. "Harry told me!"

"Well!" said Lupin clapping his hands and looking cheerful. "That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?" He took the map and stuffed it in his robes. "Harry, Ron, Nicci, come with me. I need a word about my vampire essay—excuse us, Severus—"

We left the office and made our way to the entrance hall without speaking. Then Harry turned to Lupin and said, "Professor, I—"

"I don't want to hear any explanations," Lupin said flatly. "I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago. Yes, I know it's a map," he said to Harry and Ron's amazed faces. I snorted. Of course he knew it was a map! He'd been part of the group to make it! "I don't want to know how this came into your possession. I am, however, _astounded_ that you didn't hand it in. Particularly after the last time a student left information lying around."

* * *

**Harry:**

There it was again. Nicci's entire demeanor changed; she opened her mouth and then closed it again. I was sure Nicci knew something, _anything_, about Sirius Black that we didn't.

"Don't expect me to cover up for you again, Harry. I cannot make you take Sirius Black seriously." Nicci snickered into her sweater, but I was sure I was the only one who'd heard it. "You're very lucky Nicci was there. If she hadn't been such a good liar, and convinced Professor Snape that you'd been with her, you would've been in serious trouble. Both of you." He glanced at the Marauder's Map. "And Harry, I would have thought that what you have heard when the dementors draw near you would have had more of an impact on you."

Nicci's eyes flashed; she stepped forward. "That's _low_, Professor."

What I saw next surprised me more. Lupin stepped cautiously away from Nicci and relaxed a little. "What I mean is that your parents gave their lives to keep you alive. A poor way to repay them—gambling their sacrifice for a bag of magic tricks."

* * *

**Alecta:**

I glared after him as he walked off. Slowly, we turned and started walking back to the Gryffindor Tower. As we reached the corridor to the portrait hole, Ron said, "It's my fault. I persuaded you to go. Lupin's right, it was stupid, we shouldn't have done it—"

He broke off; we'd reached the portrait hole and the security trolls to find Hermione walking towards us. I looked at her face, and I saw something was wrong. What had happened?

"Come to have a good gloat?" said Ron harshly, as she stopped in front of us. "Or have you just been to tell on us?"

"Lay off, Ron," I said, stepping over next to Hermione, and putting an arm around her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I—I just thought you ought to know," said Hermione. She was trembling and she had a letter in her hand. "Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed."

"Oh _no_," I said, looking away. Buckbeak hadn't done anything wrong! Why was _he_ to be executed?

"He—he sent me this," Hermione said, closing her eyes and holding out the letter. Harry took it and began to read.

"Dear Hermione,

We lost. I'm—er—allowed to bring—him?—back to Hogwarts. Execution date to be fixed. Beaky…has enjoyed London. I won't forget all the help you gave us."

"They can't do this!" I protested. "Buckbeak isn't dangerous at all."

"Malfoy's dad's frightened the Committee into it," said Hermione, wiping her eyes. "You know what he's like. They're a bunch of doddery old fools, and they were scared. They're be an appeal though, there always is. Only I can't see any hope…nothing will have changed."

"Yeah, it will," said Ron. "You won't have to do all the work alone this time, Hermione. I'll help."

Ron has seen the light! Good for him!

Hermione was apparently thinking along the same lines, because she cried, "Oh, Ron!" and flung her arms around him.

It took quite a bit of willpower to not go 'Aww!' at the scene, even though it really wasn't very mushy or romantic. I mean, Hermione was crying and Ron looked completely terrified. They had quite a ways to go.

"Ron, I'm really, really, sorry about Scabbers," she sobbed.

"Oh—well—he was old," said Ron, looking relieved that Hermione had let go of him. Y'know, Mister, there'll come a day when you'll be upset when she lets go of you. I hope. "And he was a bit useless. And you never know, maybe Mum and Dad'll get me an owl now."

All Hermione had to do was hug him? She should've done that months ago.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, I noticed the tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin rising to almost impossible heights. It truly scared me, because when I'd originally gone to Hogwarts, Gryffindors and Slytherins had had, not a close relationship, but inter-house friendships. But here, now, it seemed as though they'd never get along. I almost missed the old days.

But I didn't. And as I spent more time around the current Slytherins, I couldn't imagine wanting to be friends with them. Especially that Malfoy. I was beginning to think that I hated him more then his father.

Never, even in my memory, had a match come with such high energy. On the night before the match, even Hermione put down her books. "I can't work, I can't concentrate," she said.

I grinned, and looked over at Fred and George, who were telling loud jokes and being exceptionally noisy. I realized quickly that they were just being noisy to deal with their nerves. Oliver Wood was bending over a model of the Quidditch pitch and moving the players around with his wand. Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell were all laughing at Fred and George's jokes, trying not to look nervous. I was sitting in an armchair with Ginny, talking about her brothers Bill and Charlie. I noticed Harry was sitting with Ron and Hermione, looking positively terrified.

"D'you think Gryffindor will win?" Ginny asked me.

"Of course I do," I said. "We've got a great team who practices all the time, who have talent, and have reasonable brooms. Why on earth wouldn't we win?"

"You seem confident."

"Their only problem is nerves. They're afraid of failure and it's getting to them," I diagnosed, leaning back in the chair. "But they'll be fine tomorrow. Trust me, it's always worse the night before then it is when it's actually happening."

All of a sudden, Wood stood up and yelled, "Team! Bed!"

Hermione came over to sit with us as Ron and Harry went up the stairs. "I hope Harry'll be all right."

"Hermione, he'll be fine," I reassured her. "He's an amazing Seeker, with an amazing team and amazing teachers."

"Right." Hermione took a deep breath. "I know."

It seemed like no time at all until the next morning, when Harry and the rest of the team came down the stairs to the common room. I hadn't slept at all last night; I'd been with Sirius and Crookshanks, who really was an amazing cat. We mostly had spent the entire night talking about the Quidditch game, Pettigrew, and how we were ever going to explain the whole story to Harry, Ron and Hermione. "Hi, Nicci," said Harry, breaking me out of my chain of thought.

"Hey, Harry," I responded, without looking up.

"Hi, Nics."

I rolled my eyes. "Hello, George."

"Nicci?" called Ginny, coming down the stairs. "Oh, hi George, Fred." She shook her head. "How're you awake?"

I shrugged.

"Hey, sister mine," said George. "See you two later."

"See you."

"Hey!" I called after them. "If you lose, I promise I'll come to your funeral!"

Angelina, Fred, George, and Harry laughed and Wood managed to crack a smile. "Thanks, Nicci," whispered Fred. "We needed that."

"Anytime," I whispered back.

At the game later, I was wedged between Hermione and Ginny, who both looked insanely nervous. I sighed, and watched as Lee Jordan started commentating.

"And it's Gryffindor in possession, Alicia Spinnet with the Quaffle, heading for the Slytherin goal posts, looking good Alicia! Argh, no—Quaffle intercepted by Warrington, Warrington of Slytherin tearing up the field—WHAM!—nice Bludger work there by George Weasley, Warrington drops the Quaffle, it's caught by—Johnson, Gryffindor back in possession, come on, Angelina—nice swerve around Montauge—_duck, Angelina, that's a Bludger!_—SHE SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO GRYFFINDOR!"

I cheered loudly along with the rest of the Gryffindors. Just as I was about to put my focus back on the game, something caught my eyes. A pair of eyes. A pair of eyes that looked suspiciously like—

Dammit. Sirius was here.

I slipped away from Ginny, Ron, and Hermione quietly and made my way down to where Sirius was standing. Well, whatever you wanted to call it.

"Sirius," I hissed when I got down there. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"I came to see Harry," he said, hiding from sight and turning back into himself. "He's an amazing Seeker, better then James…"

"Wasn't James a Chaser?" I asked, crouching down next to him.

"Yeah, but the amount of time he spent with the Snitch," Sirius muttered. "Could've been Seeker if he wanted to."

"THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING—"

"What on earth is going on out there?" I asked.

"Let's find out, shall we?" Sirius turned back into a dog and strutted out.

"And it's Gryffindor in possession again, as Johnson takes the Quaffle—Flint alongside her—poke him in the eye, Angelina!—it was a joke, Professor, it was a joke—"

"They play dirtier then we did," commented Sirius. "But I like the commentator."

"Lee?" I asked. "Yeah, I like him too. He's Fred and George's friend—the Beaters."

"Weasley?"

"Yep."

"Ah," Sirius said, turning back to the game.

We watched as one of the dirtiest games in history unfolded. With the Chasers, Beaters, and…wow. Two of the Beaters aimed both Bludgers and hit Wood twice. Beside me, Sirius winced.

"YOU DO NOT ATTACK THE KEEPER UNLESS THE QUAFFLE IS WITHIN SCORING AREA!" shrieked Madam Hooch. She looked absolutely furious. "Gryffindor penalty!"

A few minutes later, Malfoy grabbed onto the end of Harry's broom to stop him getting the Snitch. Sirius growled and barked loudly. I kicked him.

"Penalty! Penalty to Gryffindor! I've never _seen_ such tactics!"

The game seemed to be action-packed with cheating and goals; currently, Angelina was flying for the goal, and Harry was behind her…what was he doing?

He shot in front of Angelina and scattered the Slytherins. I grinned and laughed madly. My eyes searched the field for…oh no.

"HARRY!" I screamed. "THE SNITCH! BY MALFOY!"

He looked at me for half a second, looked at Malfoy, and streaked off like a bullet, catching up to Malfoy…knees…elbows…level…and then—"YES!" Harry yelled, pulling out of his dive.

I screamed, hugged Sirius, and ran back up to my seat. In the pandemonium, no one had noticed my absence.

"We won!" shrieked Ginny, pulling me into a hug, jumping up and down.

The Gryffindor team was descending slowly to the ground; People were running out onto the pitch…Hagrid was yelling, "Yeh beat 'em, Harry! Yeh beat 'em! Wait till I tell Buckbeak!"…McGonagall was sobbing uncontrollably into a Gryffindor flag…and then I was standing next to Hermione, beaming at Harry, not knowing what on earth to say. I hugged Hermione, grinning madly, and we both laughed.

* * *

The euphoria of the match seemed to last all the way up to the exams—and then it was suddenly silent. But as I sat down for our Defense Against the Dark Arts exam, I couldn't imagine why people bothered studying for these. They were so straightforward and simple.

…Well, maybe I could.

I went right before Hermione and slipped through the exam easily. The grindylow, hinkypunks, Red Caps, were quite simple. And then I climbed into the trunk with the boggart. There, standing before me, were the bodies of my friends, all dead, with a face…one I knew well, standing over them.

And just like with the Mirror of Erised, their faces changed. Ginny, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fred, George…

Oh God. I nearly threw up. "Riddikulus!" I cried, my voice faltering.

"Not good enough, A-lec-ta," drawled his voice. "You'll have to be better. But you weren't better before, were you? Not strong enough, not good enough—"

I screamed with frustration, and yelled "_RIDDIKULUS_!"

The trunk blasted apart.

I'm not quite sure what happened next. All I really remember was stopping the wood in midair, and closing my hands, slamming the pieces of the trunk back together, trapping the boggart inside. I turned around to face Lupin, who was looking at me with an awe-struck face. The rest of the class looked a bit scared.

"Sorry about that," I said, slapping a smile on my face. "It's still in there."

"The…boggart?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, peering at him. "Am I done?"

He nodded; I left, repeatedly hitting myself in the head for being so stupid. How could I let my magic get out of control like that?

I was sitting in the common room a few hours later with Hermione and Ron, who had wisely chosen not to mention my outbreak in class, when a tawny owl flew through the window and landed on Hermione's lap. She took the letter off his leg, and began to read,

"Lost appeal." Hermione's voice shook. "They're going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don't come down. I don't want you to see it.

Hagrid."

"Oh no!" I cried. "They can't!"

"I can't believe it," whispered Hermione. "They—they wouldn't…"

At that moment, Harry burst into the common room and ran over to us. "Professor Trewlaney," he said, completely out of breath, "just told me—"

He broke off suddenly.

"Buckbeak lost," Ron said weakly. "Hagrid's just sent this."

Harry took the letter and read through it quickly, hands shaking. "We've got to go," he said quietly. "He can't just sit there on his own, waiting for the executioner!"

"Sunset, though…" Ron said, staring at his hands. "We'd never be allowed…'Specially you, Harry…"

"If only we had the Invisibility Cloak…"

"Well, we could use mine," I said, thinking out loud. "But it's only big enough for two, not four…"

"Where's yours, Harry?" asked Hermione.

Harry told her the story of how he left it in the passageway to Hogsmeade when Snape had almost caught him, and if he went anywhere near it again he'd be in trouble.

"That's true," said Hermione thoughtfully, getting up from her chair. "If he sees _you_…How do you open the witch's hump again?"

"You—you tap it and say _Dissendium_," said Harry. "But—"

Hermione had already walked out. I laughed.

"What's so funny?" asked Ron.

"You should know by now that you can't change a girls mind once she's set it on something," I told them, giggling. "You were going to try and stop Hermione, weren't you?"

When Hermione returned, Ron looked very impressed. "Hermione, I don't know what's gotten into you! First you hit Malfoy, then you walk out on Trewlaney—"

Hermione seemed very pleased with that statement.

Approximately an hour later, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I walked out of Hogwarts towards Hagrid's cabin. Hermione and I were under my invisibility cloak; Harry and Ron were under Harry's.

When we reached the cabin, Harry knocked on the door. Hagrid, looking visibly upset, opened the door and stared around.

"It's us," Harry whispered. "We're wearing the Invisibility Cloak. Let us in and we can take it off."

"Yeh shouldn've come!" said Hagrid, but he opened the door anyway and we all stepped through. Hagrid shut the door very fast, and I pulled off my cloak, to see Harry doing the same.

"Nicci? Yeh've got a cloak too?" he asked, shaking his head. "Shoulda known…"

"Where's Buckbeak?" asked Hermione.

"I—I took him outside," Hagrid said, voice shaking. He was pouring milk into a cup of tea, and the milk was spilling all over the table. "He's tethered in me pumpkin patch. Though' he oughta see the trees an'—an' smell fresh air—before—"

Hagrid knocked over the milk jug and it broke on the floor.

"I'll do it, Hagrid," said Hermione, bending over and cleaning up the mess.

"Hagrid?" I said. "Can I go—say good-bye?"

Hagrid nodded; a tear was streaming down his face. I silently stepped out the back door to see Buckbeak lying in the middle of the patch, not knowing what was coming. I walked up to him, and bowed low. He looked at me and bowed his head back.

"Hi, you," I said, sitting down next to him. "How are you?"

He snorted and tossed his head. "Good to be back in the open air again?" I asked, a tear running down my cheek too. How could something so innocent and naïve be executed for something it wasn't faulty for?

I sat there for a time, feeling like it was hours, when really it was only a couple minutes. All of a sudden, I heard Hermione scream. I got up and ran back to the hut. "It's _Scabbers_!" Jesus Christ, how many times did we have to try to kill that thing?

"What are you talking about?" Ron.

"Hermione, you found Scabbers?" I asked, coming through the door.

"Scabbers! Scabbers, what're you doing here?"

I saw Scabbers, or Pettigrew, or whatever you wanted to call him, writhing in the light. He looked terrible.

Good.

But he was trying very hard to get away. "It's okay, Scabbers!" said Ron. "No cats! Nothing here to try and hurt you!"

"I doubt that very highly," I muttered under my breath.

Hagrid looked out the window and paled. "They're comin'…"

I didn't even bother to turn around. "Harry, Ron, Hermione…we have to go. It'll be terrible for Hagrid if we're here. We shouldn't make things worse."

I headed for the back door, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed behind. "Go. Nicci's righ'. Yeh've gotta get outta here."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't move.

"Hagrid, we can't—"

"We'll tell the what happened—"

"They can't really kill him—"

"Go!" said Hagrid fiercely. "It's bad enough without you lot an' all!"

I grabbed Hermione and Harry's arms and dragged them out. I pulled our cloak over Hermione, and Harry slowly put on his cloak. Obviously, they were not concerned about themselves. But what they didn't realize was that if they were found with Hagrid, it'd be a lot worse than Buckbeak's execution. So I grabbed both Ron and Harry and dragged them behind us.

"Please, let's hurry," Hermione whispered. "I can't stand it, I can't bear it…"

We were walking up the grounds when Ron stopped.

"Ron!" I hissed. "What're you doing?"

"It's Scabbers—he won't—stay put—"

I pulled the cloak off Ron and saw that Pettigrew was flailing wildly, trying to escape Ron's pocket.

"Scabbers, it's me, you idiot, it's Ron," hissed Ron.

"Oh, Ron, please let's move, they're going to do it!" said Hermione, fighting back tears.

"Okay—Scabbers, stay _put_—"

After only a few seconds of walking, Ron stopped again.

"Oh my _God_…" I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"I can't hold him—Scabbers, shut up, everyone'll hear us—"

Pettigrew was wailing, but I could still hear men's voices…and after only a few seconds…the swish and thud of an axe.

Hermione was sobbing next to me.

…Wait a minute. A few centuries back, Ben and Hailey had spent a year testing my sense of hearing, perfecting it. And that was _not_ the thud of flesh. That sounded more like wood. Had the executioner hit the fence?

I listened for another thud, but there was none. I didn't know what had gone on down there, but Buckbeak hadn't been hit. The difference between the two was astonishing, now that I listened for it.

But how? And why?

I was broken out of my thoughts by, "What's the _matter_ with him?" cried Ron.

I saw Crookshanks slinking out of the bushes and I smiled. At least one animal was trustworthy.

"Crookshanks," Hermione moaned. "No, go away, Crookshanks, go away!"

But Crookshanks had a job to do—he wasn't going to stop because of Hermione—

"Scabbers, NO!"

Too late—Pettigrew slipped through Ron's fingers and ran off, Crookshanks following closely behind. Ron threw off the Invisibility Cloak and followed. Uh-oh.

I grabbed my Invisibility Cloak off Hermione and sprinted after him; I heard Harry and Hermione come after me.

"Get away from him—get away—Scabbers, come _here_—"

"No, Ron!" I screamed, no longer caring about Sirius. "Get away from him!"

"Wha—?"

"NO!" I yelled, as heard Sirius come bounding out of the growth. _Damn_! He bowled over Harry and made for Ron. "If he dies, I'll kill you!"

But it was too late. Sirius was dragging Ron by the arm—"No!" I yelled again.

I heard Harry and Hermione get winded by the Whomping Willow, and moments later I joined them.

"Ron!" Harry shouted.

"Stoppit, Harry, it's no use!" I yelled.

"Harry, Nicci—we've got to go for help—" whispered Hermione frantically.

"We're not doing that," I responded immediately.

"That thing's big enough to eat him!" said Harry at the same time.

"We're never going to get through without help—"

"If that dog can get in, we can," growled Harry.

"Oh, help, help, please," gasped Hermione.

As I watched, Crookshanks slunk under the tree and pressed the knob. The tree stopped moving, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn't wanted to show Harry or Hermione that I knew what was going on until I had to.

"Crookshanks!" cried Hermione, grabbed Harry and mine's arms painfully hard. "How did he know…?"

"He's friends with that dog, I've seen them together," said Harry.

I raised my eyebrows. Harry knew more than I thought.

Harry slipped down through the hole in the trees, followed by Hermione, then me. As we walked, I became the only one who hadn't slipped up or tripped on a tree root.

Suddenly, Harry stopped and looked at me. "You've been here before." It wasn't a question.

"I have," I agreed.

"Where's Ron?" Hermione asked, looking terrified.

"This way," said Harry, bending over and walking down the tunnel.

I grabbed my wand out of my pocket and said, "_Lumos_." The light from my wand joined Harry's, and we made our way down the passageway.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes! You have no idea how long this chapter took me to write! I know it's only been like four days, but I'm really trying to wrap up _Prisone_r of Azkaban without rushing it, which made it hard. There are going to be one or two chapters left, depending on how long they are. I'm so excited to move into _Goblet of Fire_, it's actually kind of creepy.

One thing before I answer a review. Nicci and Alecta are the _same person_. Alecta Gryffindor is Nicci Lonsen's real name. I'm just making sure everyone understands that, because it seems to be kind of confused.

**Little innocent:** I have been debating whether to have George ask Nicci to the Yule Ball and have decided against it. That does not mean that they will not have a relationship-like scene there, it just means they're not officially going together. I think I'm going to have Nicci go with Harry, and have Pavarti Patil go with Terry Boot, because Harry only dances in the first dance, which frees up a few hours to put in a scene.

My reason for not having Nicci go with George? Well, it seems like none of the main characters go with the person they ultimately end up with, so why change that? Besides, I'm originally going to have George and Nicci argue quite a bit, so neither one will feel much like asking the other to the Ball.

And yes, of _course_ Ginny and Hermione are going to come to Nicci for advice! It's going to give me some great opportunities for Nicci to go into unknown lands and deal with something she's never _really_ dealt with before. Boys. The idea may seems confusing now, since Alecta's a thousand years old, (you'd think she'd have had some boyfriends) but I'll show you what I mean in _Order of the Phoenix_.


	11. Chapter 10: Godfather and Godson

**Chapter 10: Godfather and Godson**

**Alecta:**

Finally, almost an hour later, we reached the end of the tunnel, which led up to a room in the Shrieking Shack. I got up, dusted myself off, and looked around the room.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "I think we're in the Shrieking Shack."

"Exactly right, Hermione," I said quietly. "I recognize this place."

"You've been in the Shrieking Shack before?" said Hermione. "But it's haunted!"

"No, it's not," I told her.

Harry looked around and his eyes fell on a chair that had been ripped apart. "Ghosts didn't do that," he said slowly.

I rolled my eyes, but neither of them saw. Quietly, I stepped forward up the staircase and Harry and Hermione followed. We crept up the staircase at a mind-bogglingly slow pace. My brain was about to explode.

"_Nox_," the three of us whispered together.

Wand held tightly, Harry kicked the door open. I saw Ron holding his leg at a odd angle on an old bed, dusty and moth-covered with age. In front of him was Crookshanks, purring loudly.

"Ron—are you okay?"

"Where's the dog?"

Ron moaned. "Not a dog," he said through gritted teeth; he was obviously in pain.

"What—?"

"_He's the dog_…_He's an Animagus_…"

Ron was staring over Harry's shoulder, and I spun around. There in the corner was Sirius, smiling madly.

"Sirius, you look like crap," I said faintly.

"_Expelliarmus_!" he croaked, pointing Ron's wand at us. Harry and Hermione's wands flew out of their hands. I had cast a silent Shield Charm around myself, but I dropped it at my feet and hid my wand under my shoe, in case I needed it later.

"I thought you'd come to help your friend…" Sirius said. "Your father would've done the same for me. Brave of you, not to run to a teacher. I'm grateful…it'll make the job so much easier…"

Harry, who looked ready to jump forward, was snarling, so I grabbed his arm and hauled him back. "Don't be stupid, Harry," I told him. "He has a wand, and we don't."

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!" cried Ron, trying to stand up. He was completely drained of color and he looked ready to faint, but you had to admire his determination.

"Lie down," Sirius said to Ron. "You will damage that leg even more."

"Did you hear me?" cried Ron, who was now holding on to Harry to keep from falling over. "You'll have to kill all four of us!"

"Stop it, Ron. You need to lie down," I said, leading him back over to the bed. I picked my wand up from under my shoe, but hid it in my robes. "Don't you try anything, Sirius."

"There'll be only one murder here tonight," said Sirius, grinning madly. I groaned. You'd think people would _listen_ to the heir of Gryffindor.

"Why's that?" spat Harry. "Didn't care last time, did you? Didn't mind slaughtering all those Muggles to get at Pettigrew…What's the matter, gone soft in Azkaban?"

"Harry, please," whimpered Hermione.

"HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!" yelled Harry, and he broke free of Hermione and me and ran at Sirius, bowling him over…and Hermione was screaming, Ron was yelling, Hermione kicked Sirius, and—

"STOP IT!" I shrieked, pulling Harry off Sirius. I forced him back against the wall and put Hermione and Ron next to him. "IF YOU FOUR DON'T STOP ACTING LIKE IMMATURE CHILDREN, I AM BODY-BINDING THE LOT OF YOU!"

All of them shut up, and stared at me with wide eyes. "What're you _doing_?" snarled Harry.

"I did not come tonight to see you all attempt to kill each other," I said, flicking my wand between Harry and Sirius, daring them to make a move.

"He killed my parents," said Harry, his voice shaking slightly, standing up.

"I don't deny it," said Sirius, standing up as well. "But if you knew the whole story…"

"The whole story?" repeated Harry, walking forward. "You sold them to Voldemort. That's all I need to know."

"You've got to listen to me," said Sirius, beginning to sound urgent. "You'll regret it if you don't…You don't understand…"

"I understand a lot better than you think," said Harry, grabbing Sirius's wand off the floor. "You never heard her, did you? My mum…trying to stop Voldemort killing me…and you did that…you did it…"

"Nicci, help me," said Sirius.

He could not have said three more damaging words. Hermione, Ron, and Harry all turned to stare at me. "You _have _been helping him!" shrieked Hermione. "You've been writing him, and helping him into the castle! Alecta was wrong!"

"Wrong," I said to her, taking my wand out of my robes. "I _have_ been writing Sirius, but I haven't been helping him into the castle. He's done that all on his own. And Alecta wasn't wrong. She lied…lied to protect me."

Harry stared at me. "That night…the night Ron was nearly stabbed…that wasn't Thaniel. That was Black. You lied to save him!"

"Harry, listen to me—"

Footsteps. Someone was coming up the stairs, someone had been downstairs—

"HELP! WE'RE UP HERE!" screamed Hermione. "WE'RE UP HERE! SIRIUS BLACK—_QUICK_!"

The door flew open with a shower of dust, and the last person I ever expected to see came through the door. Lupin.

He surveyed the scene; his eyes flickering over Hermione and Ron, still against the wall, Ron sitting, panting at the pain in his leg; Sirius and Harry, Sirius bleeding badly, Harry only a few feet away; and me, standing, with my wand pointed at the ground.

"_Expelliarmus_!" Lupin shouted.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron's wands came flying through the air and Lupin caught them. He looked at me once more, thoughtfully this time.

Then he spoke. "Where is he, Sirius?"

I immediately knew what he was talking about. Pettigrew. My face relaxed, and I almost laughed. Harry looked at me quizzically.

"Sirius," I said. "I know. He's—"

But I didn't finish. Sirius raised his hand and pointed at Scabbers. But Harry turned and looked at Ron instead, then turned back to Lupin and I.

"But then…," Lupin muttered, staring at Sirius and me, one at a time, "…why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless—unless he was the one—"

"Lupin, they switched!" I cried, hoping to get the point across. "He—he transformed and—and they said he was dead and he was hiding! And Sirius never got the chance to tell anyone because—everyone thought he was guilty!"

Sirius stared at me and nodded.

"Professor," interrupted Harry, "what's going on—"

Harry never finished his sentence. Lupin gazed at Sirius and lowered his wand. He walked to Sirius's side, pulled him up by his feet, and embraced him.

"Oh, thank God," I said.

But Hermione was not done yet. "I DON'T BELIEVE IT!"

Hermione picked herself up off the floor and pointed at Lupin. "You—you—"

"Hermione—"

"—you and him!" Then she turned to me. "All three of you!"

"Hermione, calm down!"

"I didn't tell anyone!" she shrieked. "I've been covering up for you—"

"Hermione, listen to me, please!" Lupin yelled. "I can explain!"

"I trusted you," Harry shouted at Lupin, his entire body shaking, "and all this time you've been his friend!"

"You're wrong," said Lupin. "I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now—let me explain!"

"NO!" Hermione screamed. "Don't trust him, Harry, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too—_he's a werewolf_!"

There was a silence.

"Not up to your usual standard, Hermione," said Lupin, stepping forward. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius into the castle, and I certainly don't want Harry dead—but I won't deny that I am a werewolf."

Ron let out a moan of pain; he'd tried to stand up again. Lupin walked toward him, looking concerned, but Ron gasped out, "_Get away from me, werewolf_!"

Lupin stopped dead.

I stepped up next to him. "It's all right," I said. "I've known for years, Hermione. And you know what?" I said, walking up right in front of her face. "I'm liking the ex-convict and the werewolf more than I like you three right now. You're letting rumors and prejudice get in the way of what's important, and that's eventually going to end up hurting someone you care about."

Hermione staggered back, and Harry stared at the ground uncomfortably. Ron looked taken aback.

"How long have you known?" Lupin asked Hermione.

"Ages," she whispered. "ever since I did Professor Snape's essay…"

"He'll be delighted," Lupin said coolly. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what the symptoms meant…Did you check the lunar chart and realize I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart turned into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both," Hermione whispered.

Lupin let out a forced laugh.

"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione."

I walked over to Sirius while Hermione and Lupin were talking. "Hey," I whispered to him.

"Hi," he said back. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble, Nicci, with Harry, Ron and Hermione…I'm really sorry about that…"

"It's fine," I said. "I just…I never imagined the big confession would be like this."

Sirius chuckled quietly. "You are so much like your mother, Nicci. Lexi would've handled the situation just like this."

"I know," I said. "I was hoping for less threats, though—"

"AND HE WAS WRONG!" Harry cut me off. " YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM THE WHOLE TIME!"

"Stop it, Harry," I said. "Lupin hasn't been helping him at all." I took a deep breath. "I have."

More silence. Sirius and Lupin both stared at me. "I knew Sirius had escaped Azkaban, and I wanted to know what had happened. The whole story. You see, Harry, I, unlike you, try to hear the whole side of the story before I decide who's innocent and who's guilty.

"That day, in Diagon Alley, when Hailey and Ben showed up, Hailey told me something. She told me that Sirius was innocent. I believe Hailey. I always have, and she's never proven me wrong to trust her.

"So I wrote Sirius and I sent him food. Sirius saved me, Harry," I said, to his opened mouth, "I'd never experienced dementors before in that proximity…and Sirius kept me alive. I owe him my life."

Lupin, Ron, Harry, and Hermione's eyes all widened. "So I talked to him, Thursday night, after our first Potions class…He told me everything I wanted and needed to know. And I've been helping him stay alive ever since. But I swear—he didn't kill your parents, he didn't kill Pettigrew, and I haven't been helping him into the castle!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all gaped at me. Lupin looked at me thoughtfully. "You're a very clever girl, Nicci."

I smiled at him. "Listen," Lupin continued, "if you give me a chance, I'll explain. Look—"

He threw Harry, Ron, and Hermione their wands. When they looked up, they had identical expressions of disbelief on their faces.

"There," said Lupin, sticking his wand into his belt. "You're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?"

Harry looked suspiciously at his wand, and looked at me, then Lupin. "If you haven't been helping him, then how did you know he was here?"

"The map," said Lupin. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it—"

"You know how to work it?" asked Harry suspiciously.

"Of course I know how to work it," said Lupin impatiently. "I'm Moony—that was my friend's nickname for me at school."

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," I said in a singsong voice.

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully every evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, Hermione and Nicci might try to sneak out and visit Hagrid before his hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?"

He started to pace across the floor.

"You might've been wearing your father's old cloak, Harry—"

"How d'you know about the cloak?"

"The number of times I saw James disappearing under it…," said Lupin even more impatiently. "The point is, even if you are invisible, you still show up on the Marauder's Map…"

As Lupin explained, I sat down next to Sirius, and put an arm on his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Perfect," he said dryly.

I grinned.

We sat there in silence for a while, just listening to the conversation mindlessly.

"What?" I heard Ron ask. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," Sirius said suddenly. I actually jumped.

"What d'you mean—of course he's a rat—"

"No, he's not," I said.

"He's a wizard," Lupin continued.

"An Animagus," finished Sirius. "By the name of Peter Pettigrew."

Everyone stared at us.

"You're both mental," said Ron.

"Ridiculous!" Hermione said faintly. But she didn't sound very sure.

"Peter Pettigrew's dead!" snarled Harry. "_He_ killed him twelve years ago!" He pointed at Sirius.

"I meant to," Sirius growled, his eyes flashing, "but little Peter got the better of me…not this time, though!"

He lunged at Scabbers and fell on Ron; I grabbed him by his shoulders and held him back. Lupin joined me after a second, and we heaved him off Ron.

"WAIT!" Lupin yelled after we had hold of him.

"I'm right here!" I snapped, grabbing my ear. "Stop yelling!"

"Sorry," he said apologetically. "You can't just do it like that, Sirius—they need to understand—we've got to explain—"

"We can explain afterwards," snarled Sirius, still trying to get to Ron.

They've—got—a—right—to—know—everything!" Lupin panted. We finally managed to push him back onto the bed. "Ron's kept him as a pet! There are parts of this even I don't understand; parts that only you and Nicci know! And Harry—you owe Harry the truth, Sirius!"

Sirius stopped struggling beneath our grip. "All right then," he said. "Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for."

"You sound like a mad man, Sirius," I said. "Get a grip."

"You're nutters, all three of you," said Ron shakily, trying to stand yet again. "I've had enough of this. I'm off."

"Stop it, Ron," I said, pointing my wand at Scabbers. "You're going to hear us out. All three of you are. Just keep a tight hold on Pettigrew while you're listening."

"HE'S NOT PETTIGREW, HE'S SCABBERS!" yelled Ron.

"Get a grip," I snapped. "You're only a third-year, how could you possibly know if your rat's a rat or not?"

The question seemed to silence him. "You're a third-year," said Ron.

"But I've lived in Azkaban, with ghosts, and I've fought in two wars. I know quite a bit about Animagi."

Harry pushed Ron down on the bed, and turned back to Lupin and I. "There were witnesses who saw Pettigrew die," he said. "A whole street of them…"

"They didn't see what they thought they saw!" hissed Sirius.

"Everyone thought Sirius killed Peter," said Lupin. "I believed it myself—until I saw the map tonight. Because the Marauder's Map never lies…Peter's alive, Harry. Ron's holding him."

"But Professor Lupin…Scabbers can't be Pettigrew…it just can't be true, you know it can't…"

"Why can't it be true?" asked Lupin lightly.

"Because…because people would _know_ if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework—the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things…and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list—"

Lupin started laughing. "Right again, Hermione! But the Ministry never knew there used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts."

I leaned my head against Sirius's shoulder as Lupin began his tale of becoming a werewolf. The explanation lasted several minutes.

"And they didn't desert me at all. Instead, they did something that made my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi."

"My dad too?" asked Harry.

"Indeed," said Lupin. "It took them the better part of three years to work it out…"

As he drifted off into the familiar story, I tuned him out again, and concentrated on using my magic to calm Sirius's nerves a little. It was very hard, and it'd taken me years to figure out, but extremely effective.

"Snape?" I heard Sirius say harshly. "What's Snape got to do with this?"

"He's here, Sirius," said Lupin heavily.

"I know that," Sirius responded. "Nicci told me."

Lupin sighed and turned back to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Professor Snape was at Hogwarts with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job."

"Surprise, surprise," I muttered.

"He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons…you see, Sirius here played a trick on him that nearly killed him, a trick which involved me—"

Sirius snorted. "Served him right," he sneered. "Sneaking around…trying to find out what we were up to…hoping he could get us expelled…"

I elbowed him.

Lupin went into the explanation, but I narrowed my eyes. Someone was here…someone who shouldn't be. I could almost feel their magic, they were so close. But who? They couldn't be in here…I'd be able to—had Harry and Hermione brought Harry's cloak with them?

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," said Harry, interrupting my thoughts _yet again_, "because he thought you were in on the joke?"

"That's right," sneered a voice behind Lupin. I looked around the professor and saw Snape pulling off Harry's cloak, his wand trained at Lupin.

"Oh, come _on_!" I cried. "We have enough to deal with without you dodging about!"

Snape glared at me, but otherwise completely ignored what I'd said. I was getting really sick of being ignored. First Ron, then Harry and Sirius, now Snape? This was becoming ridiculous.

"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow…" said Snape. "Very useful Potter, I thank you…"

He looked at us, his face full of barely hidden success. "You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here? I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And lucky I did…lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One look told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."

"Severus—"

"I've told the headmaster again and again that you've been helping your old friend Black into the castle, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout—"

"Severus, you're making a mistake," said Lupin. "You haven't heard everything—I can explain—Sirius is not here to kill Harry—"

"You think he cares about Harry?" I snarled. "I know about you, Snape. I know exactly why you're doing what you're doing—"

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," said Snape, cutting me off. "And when I hand over Black, maybe the headmaster will tell me what's so damn special about you, Lonsen. Why you know things no one should know. Why every time I walk into a room with you, I can feel your magic ripping at me. Why your presence is so powerful. But no matter if he doesn't…I shall be interested all the same to see how Dumbledore takes this new revelation about _you_, Lupin…He was quite convinced you were harmless…a _tame_ werewolf—"

"You fool," said Lupin venomously. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back in Azkaban?"

BANG! Thin cords burst from Snape's wand and bound Lupin round the ankles, wrists, and mouth. He toppled over; Sirius let out a yell and started toward Snape, but I grabbed his arm and tried to hold him back.

Snape pointed his wand between Sirius's eyes. "Give me a reason," he hissed. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will."

"Professor Snape—it—it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w-would it?" Hermione asked, taking a step forward.

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from the school," spat Snape. "You, Potter, Weasley, and Lonsen are out-of-bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, _hold your tongue_."

"But if—if there was a mistake—"

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" yelled Snape. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!"

Hermione fell silent.

"Vengeance will be very sweet," said Snape, almost smiling. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you…"

"The joke's on you, Snape—" croaked Sirius. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle, I'll come quietly…"

"Up to the castle?" said Snape. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black…pleased enough to give you a kiss…I daresay…"

As I listened to Snape, I paled. Sirius couldn't die! Or have his soul sucked out, or whatever you wanted to call it.

"You—you've got to hear me out. The rat—look at the rat—"

"Come on, all of you," he snapped. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a kiss for him too…"

As I watched, Harry crossed in front of the door and blocked his way. I stared.

"Get out of the way, Potter," hissed Snape. "You're in enough trouble as it is. If I hadn't been here to save your skin…"

"Professor Lupin could've killed me about a thousand times this year," Harry said. He cast me a glance, then looked away. "I've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?"

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works," Snape said. I snarled at him. "Get out of the way, Potter."

"YOU'RE PATHETIC!" Harry yelled. "JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU IN SCHOOL, YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN—"

Despite the tension of the situation, I had to muffle a laugh into my sleeve. It was a bit hypocritical that Harry had wanted to kill Sirius and possibly Lupin minutes before and now was sticking up for them.

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" bellowed Snape. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking e on bended knee!" I wrinkled my nose. "You would've been well served if he'd killed you!"

"You don't mean that," I interrupted him.

He stared at me. "What, Lonsen?"

"You'd be very upset if he died," I said, eyes raised. "Maybe not because of him…but you know what I mean."

His eyes widened fractionally. "What do you know, Lonsen?"

"Quite a bit, actually."

Snape turned back to Harry, chest heaving. "GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!"

I raised my wand and yelled, "_Stupefy_!" There was a huge bang and Snape was lifted off his feet and slammed into the wall. He was completely out. My spells were powerful; but not _that_ powerful.

I looked to Harry and saw that he, Hermione, and Ron had all tried to disarm him at the exact same moment as I had.

"You shouldn't have done that," said Sirius, staring at Snape. "You should've left him to me…"

"We attacked a teacher…We attacked a teacher," whimpered Hermione. "Oh, we're going to be in so much trouble…"

"Well," I said, clapping my hands together in a very Lupin-ish manner, "Sirius, why don't you untie Lupin so we can clear this up?"

Sirius bent down quickly to untie Lupin and help him up. Lupin stood, rubbing his arms and legs.

"Thank you, Harry," said Lupin.

"I'm still not saying I believe you."

"Then it's time we offered you some proof," Lupin said, looking to Ron. "You, boy—give me Peter, please. Now."

"Come off it," he said, holding Scabbers tightly. "Are you trying to say he broke out of Azkaban just to get his hands on _Scabbers_? Okay, say Pettigrew could turn into a rat—there are millions of rats—how's he supposed to know which one he's after if he's locked up in Azkaban?"

"You know, Sirius, that's a fair question," Lupin said. "How _did _you find out where he was?"

I groaned. "You do know I know all this already?"

Everyone looked at me.

"Y'know what?" I said. "I'm going to go outside, and you can explain all this. Call me when you _finally_ get Peter out."

Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and left, coming out the Whomping Willow.

And promptly stopped dead.

There, in the distance, was—no, it couldn't be—me? And Harry. And Hermione.

But how? Harry and Hermione were back inside.

"Harry? Hermione?" I called.

The quiet murmuring stopped. "I know you're there!" I said a bit more loudly.

Still no answer. And as I waited in the dark, things began to fall into place. The sound of wood instead of flesh. Hermione's Time-Turner. Why Sirius survived when he was in the midst of Hogwarts, surrounded by dementors.

"Simply brilliant," I murmured. "Hermione! I know you're there, and I'm going to come in after you three until you come out!"

Slowly, with trepidation, three figures came from the shadows. Harry, Hermione, and Nicci II looked very disappointed and scared. I almost laughed. "Don't worry. I'm not going to go insane."

They stared at me. "I know," I said. "I just figured it all out. So we go back in the Time-Turner, do we? And we save Buckbeak and Sirius?"

Hermione nodded slowly.

"But how…Ah, well, I'll just have to wait and see," I said, grinning.

Everyone seemed speechless. Except, of course, for Nicci II. "We are brilliant, aren't we?"

"Wait a second…so you knew this whole time and you didn't tell us?" Hermione cried.

"I know a lot of things I really shouldn't know, Hermione," I said. "You'll just have to get used to it. Now get out of here. If you're seen by anyone but me, you'll _really_ be in trouble."

"Nicci!" called a voice from inside the tree.

"I've got to go," I said brightly. "See you soon."

I waved and slipped back down the tree trunk, running back to the Shrieking Shack, thinking about what I'd just seen, marveling at the fact that my brain was not hissing through my skull and falling through my ears. Am I insane? Probably. Am I as insane as Dumbledore? Probably not.

Ah well. They always did say the best witches and wizards were absolutely crazy.

**A/N:** I don't like this chapter that much. I'm sorry, I just really don't. It's too informative. And too line-for-line. And a bit boring. Scratch that. It's more than a bit boring. To me, anyway.

Turns out, when I'm writing scenes from the book, I go too much on the actual book. Which is why writing summers and scenes with Ginny and George will be so much more fun. I think I'm afraid that if I'm not careful, I'll go AU, and I don't want that.

Okay, I lied. There'll probably be two more chapters before the summer-before-Quidditch-Cup stuffies. I'm sorry. Well, actually I'm not.

…Yeah. Um, Bye.


	12. Chapter 11: Being Bright

**Chapter 11: Being Bright**

**Alecta:**

"Well," I said, as we left the Shrieking Shack twenty minutes later. "That was…interesting."

Ron and Lupin both gave me odd looks. I shrugged.

"Hey, Nicci?" said Hermione in a small voice. I glanced over at her. "I—I'm really sorry about what I said…and about not hearing the entire story. I'm really glad you did what you did and—"

"Hermione," I said.

"I know you had your reasons, and I don't blame you, and it's our fault—"

"_Hermione_." This was the third time she'd done this, and it was really getting old.

"And I really hope you can forgive us for labeling you as a traitor, because you're not, you're a really great friend—"

"Hermione!"

"What?"

"You're doing it again!"

"The rambling? I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

I looked at her and she looked back. We hugged and laughed at ourselves.

Harry stared at us strangely.

Hermione, Harry, and I were at the very back of the little procession we were making. Crookshanks was at the front, with Lupin and Ron (who were chained to Pettigrew) behind him. Sirius was behind him, using magic to make Snape float.

Harry and Sirius began to have a conversation, so Hermione and I fell back a little. "D'you think this'll all turn out all right?" she asked nervously.

"With our luck? Probably not," I joked weakly.

"I wonder if we'll have a normal year at Hogwarts."

"Nah," I said, grinning. "And it wouldn't be very fun if we did."

"Nicci…," she said, "did you…well, did you happen to see what we're going to do next year?"

My smile faded. "No," I lied. Going back to the whole 'technically' excuse, I wasn't entirely sure what we'd be doing. But I had a good idea. The Tri-Wizard Tournament was happening next year, and Harry was going to be a champion. Somehow.

"Oh," she sighed, and her shoulders sagged. "I just want Harry and Ron to be safe, y'know? I'm tired of all these near-death experiences."

I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, I love the adventure, and it's great to be with them…but what if Sirius _hadn't _been after Pettigrew? What if he _had_ betrayed Harry's parents and wanted to kill Harry?"

"You can't think like that, Hermione," I told her, shaking my head.

Just then, we reached the base of the Whomping, and Hermione focused on getting out of the hole.

"One wrong move, Peter," said Lupin, pointing his wand at Pettigrew.

I watched as the castle lights got larger; we were walking across the grounds. Easily the most amusing part of the entire experience was Snape, continuingly slamming against passing objects. I looked up the clouds, covering the—

Full moon.

Ah, _crap_.

Snape slammed into Lupin, Pettigrew, and Ron, who had stopped walking. Sirius and I exchanged glances, and simultaneously stopped Hermione and Harry.

"Oh my—he didn't take his potion tonight! He's not safe!" gasped out Hermione.

"I know," I said grimly. "Dammit Sirius, _do_ something—Harry, _no_!"

I grabbed Harry and pushed him back as he tried to jump forward to get Ron.

"Run," whispered Sirius. "Run. Now."

But we couldn't just leave Ron—

"Leave it to me—RUN!"

"Don't be stupid!" I cried.

But it was too late—Sirius was transforming. Lupin had broken free of the chains and was now battling Sirius, locked jaw to jaw, claw to claw—

Really bad timing, but that was an amazing rhyme.

I'm kidding. It was terrible.

BANG! Pettigrew dived for Lupin's wand and Ron fell. There was a burst of light and Ron lay motionless.

"_Ron_!" I shrieked. Forgetting that there was a werewolf five feet away, I ran for him and felt Hermione follow me.

"_Expelliarmus_!" yelled Harry at Pettigrew.

I bent down next to Ron and saw Hermione on the other side. Lupin turned towards us, teeth bared. Before Sirius could get there, he charged—

"_Protego_!" I screamed. Lupin ran into the shield and was blasted backward, landing in a pile of branches.

"Sirius, he's gone, Pettigrew transformed!" I heard Harry yell.

Lupin was galloping off into the forest, Sirius had gone off somewhere. This was _not_ good. Harry dashed over to Hermione and I.

"Nicci, what did he do to him?" asked Hermione, clearly panicked.

"I don't know…," I moaned. "Harry…we've got to get up to the castle…we've got to tell someone…"

Harry stood up straight. "C'mon—"

And then I heard it. It was a dog—a dog in pain, yelping—

"Sirius," muttered Harry.

He took off into the woods towards the sound of the dog's voice, Hermione right behind him.

I groaned. This was terrible—this was awful—

"Ron, wake up, wake up!" I cried, shaking him. "You're not dead, come on—"

But Ron wouldn't wake. I stared up at Snape, who was still floating off the ground, completely unconscious. I sighed and said, "_Finite Incantartum_."

He fell to the ground with a thump.

I heard a scream from the direction of the lake. Someone cried "_Expecto—EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

What was going _on_ down there?

"Harry? Hermione?" I called uncertainly. I heard no answer.

"Oh come on, come on," I said to Ron. "Wake up, wake up…"

He moaned in pain but only rolled over.

I heard Snape begin to stir. There was only one thing for it. I was going to have to Stun myself; otherwise, I'd be blamed for being in cohorts with Sirius. Damn this all.

I murmured, "_Stupefy_," and with my remaining seconds stowed my wand safely in my robes.

* * *

I woke up very suddenly; it was really an odd feeling. I'd never actually Stunned myself before.

I sat up in my bed and saw that Hermione (who was in the bed next to me), Harry, and Ron were all still unconscious. Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, and saw me sitting up.

"My goodness!" she exclaimed, obviously quite shocked. "Up already, Miss Lonsen? That was quite a nasty Stunning spell."

"I heal fast," I said, pulling my legs out from under my sheets. Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth as if to say something, but closed it again as she saw the mark on my ankle. "What is that?"

"Birthmark," I mumbled. She walked over and looked at my ankle. "That is _not_ any old birthmark, Miss Lonsen. Where did you get that?"

"I've had it since birth. It's a _birthmark_."

"The lion…intertwined with the…snake—" Her eyed widened. "Gryffindor?"

"Shush!" I said.

"_Alecta_ Gryffindor? But that's—completely—"

"Impossible?"

"I—I…no—"

"You seem to be stuttering quite a bit, Madam Pomfrey," I said. "Are you all right?"

"You _can't_ be—"

"Can't I?" I focused my mind and got rid of the enchantments. My hair turned to the color of golden-wheat; my body became slightly tanner. Finally, my face grew more angel-like.

She stumbled back and gaped at me. "You—you _are_—"

"Well, no need to sound so surprised," I grumbled, turning back to Nicci Lonsen.

"I can't believe—" She was interrupted by another voice.

"Shocking business…shocking…miracle none of them died…never heard the like…by thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape…"

I growled. "He didn't do anything! He was knocked out!" I muttered under my breath.

"_No!_"

Huh?

"Black had bewitched them, I saw it immediately. A Confundus Charm, to judge by their behavior. They seemed to think there was some possibility he was innocent…"

I got out of bed angrily, realizing suddenly that I was still dressed. I Transfigured a goblet into a brush and started brushing through my hair.

"…and of course Potter has always been allowed an extraordinary amount of license by the headmaster…"

I pulled a clod out of dirt out of my hair angrily and began running the brush through a huge knot.

"…Personally, I try and treat him like any other student..."

I raised my eyebrows skeptically. Treat him like any other student? What a joke! I jumped up out of bed and started pacing in annoyance.

"Here, Miss Lonsen, could you come help me?" said Madam Pomfrey, looking more collected. I nodded and went over to her office.

I came out carrying a glass of water and a boulder-like piece of chocolate a minute or two later. I put down the chocolate next to Harry's bed and saw he was rubbing his eyes groggily. I actually laughed.

"…Nicci?" he asked.

"Hi, Harry," I said softly.

"Shhh, you two," hissed Hermione. She pointed to the opened door where Snape's voice was coming through. Someone else was out there…but I couldn't quite make out _who_…

"Ah, you're awake!" said Madam Pomfrey. She took out a hammer and started beating it on the chocolate boulder. Did she usually keep a hammer in her pocket?

"How's Ron?" asked Harry and Hermione together. I'd seen Ron already; he looked pale, tired, and hurt, but not dead. Certainly not dead.

"He'll live," said Madam Pomfrey. "As for you two…" I stuck my tongue out at them, "you'll be staying here until I'm satisfied you're—Potter, what do you think you're doing?"

"I need to see the headmaster," Harry said, putting on the glasses I handed him.

"Potter," said the nurse soothingly, "it's all right. They've got Black. He's locked away upstairs. The dementors will be performing the kiss any moment now—"

"_WHAT_?" Harry and I yelled together. "Why didn't you _tell_ me that?" I said alone.

Harry and Hermione jumped out of bed. I heard people running in and turned to face them only to meet—_Fudge_?

"YOU!" I shouted, dropping the glass of water I was holding. It shattered to pieces at my feet.

He stared at me, recognition crossing his face. "Nicci—Nicci _Lonsen_? What're you doing _here_? At _Hogwarts_?"

"You're still Minister?" I shouted, rage in every syllable. "After what you did? What idiots elected _you_?"

"Lonsen!" he yelled back, looking quite flustered. "I don't—how did you—?"

"Minister, listen!" interrupted Harry, jumping between us. "Sirius Black's innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can't do that to Sirius, he's—"

"Harry, Harry, you're very confused, you've been through a dreadful ordeal, lie back down, now, we've got it under control…"

Oh, Harry's going to _love_ that.

"YOU HAVEN'T!" he yelled. "YOU'VE GOT THE WRONG MAN!"

"Minister, listen, please," said Hermione, rushing to stand next to me. I bent down and muttered "_Reparo_," quietly. The cup flew back together and I picked it up.

"They're telling the truth, Fudge," I added quietly.

"You see, Minister?" said Snape nastily. "Confunded, all of them. Black's done a very good job…"

"WE'RE NOT CONFUNDED!" roared Harry.

I tossed my head angrily.

"Minister! Professor!" cried Madam Pomfrey. "I must insist…"

I ignored her and quietly edged around the arguing group. I ghosted out the door (no pun intended) and almost ran into Dumbledore.

"Nicci?" asked Dumbledore curiously. "Why aren't you in the hospital wing?"

"Snuck out—Did you talk to Sirius, Dumbledore?"

"I did indeed," he said. He shook his head, smiling. "I should have known you were lying about not speaking with him, Nicci."

"Yeah, well, it was necessary," I said distractedly. "Are they really going to perform the Kiss, Dumbledore?"

"I'm afraid they are, Nicci."

"They can't—they just—"

We had reached the entrance of the hospital wing. Harry, who had been sitting for some reason, stood back up and said with difficulty, "Professor Dumbledore, Sirius Black—"

"For heaven's sake! Is this a hospital wing or not?" said Madam Pomfrey hysterically. "Headmaster, I must insist—"

"My apologies, Poppy, but I must have a word with Miss Lonsen, Miss Granger, and Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore. "I have just been talking to Sirius Black—"

"I suppose he's told you the same fairy tale he's planted in Potter's mind," hissed Snape. "Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive—"

"That, indeed, is Black's story," said Dumbledore.

"And does my evidence count for nothing? Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor was he on the grounds!"

"You know, for someone who claims to know everything, you're really quite dumb," I snapped.

"Miss Lonsen, HOLD YOUR TONGUE!"

"Now, Snape," said Fudge, "the young lady is disturbed in her mind—we must make allowances—"

"I would like to speak with Harry, Hermione, and Nicci alone," said Dumbledore, ending the argument. "Cornelius, Severus, Poppy—please leave us."

When he finally got everyone to leave (Snape put up quite a bit of a fight), he turned to us. Harry and Hermione burst into speech at once.

"Professor, Black's telling the truth—we _saw_ Pettigrew—"

"—he escaped when Lupin turned into a werewolf—"

"—he's a rat—"

"—Pettigrew's front paw, I mean, finger, he cut it off—"

"—Pettigrew attacked Ron, it wasn't Sirius—"

I alone remained silent.

Dumbledore held up his hand. "It is your turn to listen, and I beg you will not interrupt me because there is very little time," he said urgently. I grimaced and got ready for the long speech by tuning out everything that was being said. Thinking was really a hobby for me (you have no idea how many speeches I've had to listen to), and so I thought. But what to think about?

I believe I was staring off into space for about a minute and a half before I caught back onto the conversation.

"Sirius has not acted like an innocent man. The attack on the Fat Lady—entering Gryffindor Tower with a knife—without Pettigrew, alive or dead, we have no chance of overturning Sirius's sentence."

"But _you_ believe us," I cut in.

"Yes, I do," said Dumbledore. "But I have no power to make other people see truth, or overrule the Minister of Magic…what we need," he added, looking into our faces, "is more _time_."

"What…?" said Hermione.

"Oh!" I cried, seeing were he was going with this. "Exactly—Dumbledore, _that's_…of course!"

Dumbledore stared at me. "Now pay attention," he said. "Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick's office on the second floor. Thirteenth window from the right of the West Tower. If all goes well, you will be able to save more than one innocent life tonight. But remember this, all of you: _you must not be seen_. Miss Granger, Miss Lonsen, you both know the law—you know what is at stake…_You—must—not—be—seen_."

Dumbledore strode over the door.

"I am going to lock you in. It is—five minutes to midnight. Miss Granger, three turns should do it. Good luck."

"Good luck?" asked Harry. "Three turns? What's he talking about? What're we supposed to do?"

Hermione fumbled in her robes and pulled out the Time-Turner. I quickly went over to her and stood next to her. "Harry, _come here_!"

Harry walked over to us and Hermione threw the chain around our necks.

"Ready?" she asked.

"What are we doing?" asked Harry.

"Hermione, just go," I exclaimed. "We're ready."

She nodded and turned the hourglass three times.

* * *

"Harry, we _musn't be seen_!"

Hermione was yelling at Harry again; they'd been arguing about the details for the past hour.

"How can you just let this happen?" asked Harry angrily. "Just standing there and watching it happen? I'm going to grab the cloak."

"Harry, _no_!" I hissed, grabbing the back of his robes. "Look, it's already happened. We can't change what went on down there, all right? Maybe if Snape hadn't been wearing the cloak, and _hadn't _waited until later, he would've entered the place before you had heard about the Animagi—maybe you wouldn't have Stunned Snape, maybe you'd have gone with him, and we'd be right back where we started! Even worse, if Snape meant his threat about the dementors and Kissed Sirius before we got up to the castle! And then all this would be for nothing because you tried to change the past!"

Harry and Hermione stared at me. "She's right, Harry," said Hermione earnestly.

Harry growled a bit, but sat back down.

Almost two minutes later, we saw Snape head down the path and take the Invisibility Cloak. He picked up the branch Lupin had used, froze the tree, and slid into the passageway.

"So that's it," I heard Hermione say. "We're all down there…and now we've just got to wait until we come back up again…"

"No," I said, a detail from earlier coming back to my memory. "We have one other thing to do first."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Well…" I stalled. "You—_we_—didn't manage not to be seen. We _were_ seen."

"By who?" asked Harry, looking alarmed.

I smiled grimly. "Me."

"You? You _saw_ us?" asked Hermione.

I nodded. "But I don't come out for another twenty or so minutes."

We lapsed into silence again.

Hermione suddenly said, "Harry, there's something I don't understand…Why didn't the dementors get Sirius? I remember them coming, and then I think I passed out…there were so many of them…Nicci, did you…?" She trailed off as I shook my head.

"I didn't go anywhere near you," I admitted. "I was with Ron—I think Pettigrew came back and Stunned me, because—Anyway, the only thing that could stop the number of Dementors at Hogwarts would be…" I swallowed. "A real Patronus."

"Did you see anything, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I was blacking out—a dementor was about to Kiss me and Sirius…probably you too. And then this big silver shape just came out of nowhere and it—it forced the dementors away," he said.

"But who conjured it?" Hermione asked. "Didn't you see what they looked like? Was it one of the teachers?"

"No," Harry said, "he wasn't a teacher."

"But it must have been a really powerful wizard, to drive all those dementors away…If the Patronus was shining so brightly, didn't it light him up? Couldn't you see?"

"Yeah, I saw him," said Harry. "But…I might have imagined it…I wasn't thinking straight…I passed out right afterward…"

"Who did you _think_ it was?" I asked in interest.

"I think—I think it was my dad."

"Harry, your dad's—well—_dead_," said Hermione quietly.

Dead…dead…_dead_…

"Nicci!"

Huh?

"Nicci? _Nicci_! Wake _up_!"

Oof!

I fell out of my bed and glared balefully at Ginny Weasley, who was standing over me. Then I remembered. It had been a dream. Well, a memory really...it had all actually happened.

Sirius was gone. Him and Buckbeak had escaped about a week ago, and I was still haunted by the feeling of what could have happened. If our luck hadn't been unusually good that night. But of course, Miss Ginevra was not going to allow me to drown in my worries and fears.

"Nicci! Up! Dumbledore wants to talk to you, so go get dressed," she said, pulling me up and dragging me over to my dresser. I glared at her.

"You really are the worst friend in history."

"I can live with that, Nicci."

"Go die."

"Do you say that to all of your friends?"

"Maybe," I grumbled, putting on my robes. "Or maybe I'm homicidal."

"What's that?" Ginny asked me. Damn, I forgot that 'homicidal' was a Muggle term.

"Oh—never mind," I said, walking out the dormitory.

When I reached Dumbledore's office (which, by the way, was my father's), I said tiredly, "Hello, Magnus."

The gargoyle jumped to life at the sound of my voice. "A—Alecta?"

"Hello," I repeated. "D'you think you could let me up, Magnus?"

"Er, sure," said the statue, leaping aside. I nodded my head at him and walked up the steps, not bothering to wait for the slow rotation.

"Ah, hello Nicci," said Dumbledore from behind his desk. I walked forward and sat down in a chair across from him. "I trust you know why you're here?"

"You've decided which family to send me off to?"

He nodded, and I saw the familiar twinkle in his eye. "When is the twenty-first?" he asked me.

"Er, two days from now," I responded.

"And that is when you lose your immortality?"

"Yeah," I said. "And I stop having these stupid visions every other Saturday!"

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow.

"From now on I'll only have them on the summer and winter solstice," I told him, grinning madly.

"Ah, good," he said, his expression clearing. "I was worried that you might disturb your—er—_host_ family, but it seems that's all been cleared up."

I nodded.

He took out a letter and read it quickly, then looked back at me and smiled. "All right, Miss Lonsen, I've arranged for you to stay at the Weasley's," he was saying. "But I expect you to use your magic to make the stay easier, and I think it would be fair if some of your vault money…20 galleons, let's say…goes to the Weasleys anonymously for every month you're there."

"Thanks, Dumbledore," I said, nearly bursting with laughter.

"You knew this was going to happen," he said dryly, folding up the letter again.

I just smiled.

"One more thing," said Dumbledore, petting Fawkes. "I know that you're still only thirteen, but _really_ you're over a thousand years old, and your magic…well, your magic recognizes that. You don't have the Trace on you. Haven't, in fact, for a millennium, but you haven't spent much time in England so it hasn't really mattered. You are—_technically_—of age…" Here he swallowed nervously.

"Seriously? So I don't have to hide magic? _Yes_!" I shouted, grinning.

"Please don't abuse your magic, Nicci," he said, sighing. "And don't tell anyone."

"Dumbledore, I've kept my secret a thousand years. I think I'm good."

I began to leave when I remembered something. "Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Nicci?"

"What're we going to tell Mr. and Mrs. Weasley? I mean, are we telling them the truth or—"

"No," said Dumbledore sadly. "Not yet. Not quite yet. They are not ready to learn such things yet."

"Secrets," I agreed unhappily. "Bring people together even as it tears them apart."

"Very wise," he said. "And here I thought all you could do was sarcasm."

"Oh, thanks," I said huffily. "See you, Dumbledore." I stalked out of the office and marched back to the girl's dormitory only to be stopped by Lupin.

"Nicci?" he asked. "Miss Lonsen?"

I spun around in surprise. "Professor?"

"Not anymore," he said grimly.

"What? What're you talking about?" I asked.

"I've resigned," he said. I stared at him in horror. "Professor Snape, er, _accidentally_ let it slip this morning that I am a werewolf."

"And you're leaving because of him?"

"I am indeed," he said. "Parents do not want their children being taught by a werewolf."

"Have you talked to Harry?" I asked him.

"I already did," he admitted. "In fact, I just left him. I returned the Marauder's Map to him."

"See? You _are_ an old softy," I said, grinning. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other again?"

"Just a feeling?"

"All right, I _know _we're going to see each other again."

"How long?"

"Mmm…" I racked my brains. "Beginning of next summer."

"I can't wait to see you," he said, holding out his hand.

I shook it. "Good-bye, Lupin."

"I'll see you soon," he told me, smiling. "And Nicci, don't do anything stupid, all right?"

He turned and walked away, leaving me glaring after him.

"Nicci! _Nicci_!" cried a voice. I swung around and saw Ginny running up, out of breath. "Did you talk to Dumbledore? Are you coming with us? Are we adopting you?"

"No, you're not adopting me," I said, enjoying her crestfallen face. "But I am coming home with you!"

She stared at me. "But—you—no way—_Nicci_!" she cried, slapping my arm.

I laughed. "Serves you right for pushing me out of bed."

"How did you—you don't miss anything, do you?" she said. "My brothers are going to have a real challenge with you."

"If it were easy to pull one over me, I wouldn't be going to the same house as Fred and George."

* * *

I was sitting on the Hogwarts Express with Harry, Ron, and Hermione yawning madly. I'd forgotten how it felt to be tired, or hungry, or even _growing_. It was really quite disorientating. I almost missed Hermione saying, "Harry, what's that thing outside your window?"

I turned to see a very tiny, fluffy, grey owl outside Harry's window. It was carrying a letter very disproportioned to its' size. Harry opened the window and grabbed the owl. It dropped the letter in Harry's lap, then began zooming around. Harry opened the letter. "It's from Sirius!"

"What?" Hermione and I said excitedly.

"Read it aloud!" said Ron.

"_Dear Harry, _

_I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post._

_Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this letter falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job._

_I believe the dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. (Nicci, if you think hard enough, you can probably guess where I am.) I am planning to let some Muggles catch a glimpse of me, a long way from Hogwarts, so the security on the castle will be lifted._

_There was something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt—_

"Ha!" cried Hermione triumphantly.

"Yes, but he hadn't jinxed it, had he?" said Ron. "Ouch!" The owl had bit him. I sniggered.

_Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me and Nicci kept the teachers from inflicting any damage to it during their "examination." She's a really great friend; if it weren't for her, you wouldn't currently have a godfather to give you a present._

_I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you last year when you left your uncle's—_"

"Oi! Nicci!"

George's voice interrupted the letter. I whirled around to see George opening the compartment door with Fred behind him.

"What is it, George?" I asked.

"I heard you're staying with us this summer, Nics," he said.

"_I_ heard I was too," I responded, smiling sweetly. "What a coincidence!"

"C'mon little sis," said George.

"Oh no," I said, jumping up. I was never going to be able to forget Erised's Mirror if I thought of George as a brother. "No, no, no. I am _not_ your sister."

"Why not?" asked Fred, looking offended.

"Because I'm not obliged to _and_ there's no job satisfaction," I said, sticking my tongue out at him.

"Yeah, what's so great about being _your_ sister?" asked Ginny, appearing at the door.

"Is Gin-Gin excited?" asked George.

"Does Georgie have a death wish?" I shot back.

Hermione looked faintly amused, but Ron looked stunned. "You're staying at the Burrow?" he asked faintly.

"Is it really so hard to believe?" I said, looking confused. "It was a bit obvious."

"I thought so too," said Ginny triumphantly. "Come on, George, Fred, Jordan's getting bored. Nicci, you want to come?"

I nodded and said good-bye to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Following Ginny down the train, I asked, "Lee Jordan, right?"

"Yeah," she said. "I don't know why I sat with them, but they're funny and I'm pretty sure they're not doing anything illegal, so why not?"

"Yes, why not?"

She laughed.

* * *

Exiting the train, I said good-bye to Lee and walked off with Ginny, Fred, and George. Right outside the barrier, we ran into Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were talking together.

"Hey, Harry!" I called. He turned around and I hugged him. I would miss him. I'd really miss him over the summer.

"I'll call about the World Cup!" yelled Ron as I dragged him off towards the rest of the family. Hermione spotted her parents, and after a quick hug, she departed as well.

"Nicci!" called Mr. Weasley. "It's really great to see you again!"

"It's good to see you too, Mr. Weasley," I said. I had a feeling—but no more than a feeling—that this would be a really great summer.

**A/N:** Yes! Finally done! So, after arguing with myself, I finally decided to take a reviewer's advice and cut out most of the Time-Turning, which brought my original two chapters down to one. Did you catch my dream-thing? Of course you did: it wasn't exactly subtle.

I thought I'd taken forever to write this chapter. Then I looked at my last update and realized, _Oh. It was five days ago._

Well, I'll update soon as I can with the next chapter.


	13. Chapter 12: Summer Surprises

**Chapter 12: Summer Surprises**

**Alecta:**

Walking through the front door of the Burrow, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. I was home. It was odd, wasn't it? The feeling of being home. I hadn't felt at home in nearly a thousand years.

"Well," said Ginny awkwardly, "this is the Burrow. Er, I'll show you to my room, all right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Hiya, Nics," said George, popping out of nowhere. I looked around for Fred, but didn't find him.

"Ditched your twin to talk to me? I feel so honored," I told him, choking back a smile. He glared at me.

"You are horrible, you know that?"

"I do," I responded cheerily, patting his shoulder. "You're not a ray of sunshine yourself."

"When you two are finished," interrupted Ginny, "I'd like to make it to the entire house today."

I snapped my attention back to Ginny and laughed sheepishly. "Sorry."

"So sorry, miss, won't let her get distracted again," George said, bowing his head in a cheesy sort of way and sweeping off in an invisible cloak. "Till later, fair lady."

"Aha! So I'm pretty now? Why'd you want to call me your sister again?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

Of course, I never got a response, as Ginny dragged me off by my hair. "Ow, ouch, ow…Ginny, stoppit!"

"Well then, stop flirting with my brother!"

"I am not flirting with your brother," I cried indignantly, blushing a pale red before remembering myself. I shook my head: I could not do this every time his name came up just because of what I'd seen in one mirror.

Even if said mirror was magical.

"So…," I said, stepping in her room. I liked it; it was small, but bright, with blue paint and posters of Gwenog Jones and some band called the 'Weird Sisters' who looked oddly like boys. "I like your room."

"Thanks," she said, grinning. "Can we _actually_ do this magic, Nicci? Because I don't fancy getting towed off to the Ministry."

"Well, I can," I told her. "You can't, though."

"Why can you?"

"Because I wasn't born in England," I invented. "So I don't have the Trace on me. Besides, they usually don't watch ex-Azkaban prisoners."

"All right," she finally agreed. "But start simple, Nicci. I don't want the house burnt down."

"We live in a house with three over-age wizards, Ginny," I said. "We'll be fine."

"Just…do it now, okay?"

"Ginny, I need to know what we want the room to look like first," I told her with an exasperated sigh. "Calm down."

"Right," she said. She let an easy smile spread over her face. "Why am I so worried? It'll be fine."

I actually started laughing. "That's the spirit, Ginny."

"Oh, shut up," she snapped.

"All right," I said, still laughing. "So, what do we want done?"

"Well, I think the color's fine," she said, walking around the room. "We just need to make it bigger. Big enough for you, me, and Hermione."

"Hermione?"

"Yeah, didn't I tell you? Hermione's coming in two weeks or so to go to the Quidditch Cup."

"The Quidditch Cup?" I asked dangerously.

"Oh—I didn't tell you about the Quidditch Cup? Well, Dad can usually get tickets from work, so Bill and Charlie are coming home to see it with us. And Hermione and hopefully Harry will be coming to." She fixed a worried glance on me. "I didn't tell you any of that?"

"No, Ginny," I said through gritted teeth. "You successfully failed to mention _any_ of that."

"Oh…" She trailed off as she caught the look in my eye. "I'm sorry! I was just so excited I completely forgot about the Cup!"

I sighed in defeat. "When are your brothers coming?" I asked, trying to stay mad.

"Five days from now?"

Ah, it was back. "_Five days_? You—you—I can't believe this!"

"Hey, I had a lot on my mind!"

"Cannot—_believe_—you."

"Oh, stop being such a drama queen, Nicci," said Ginny impatiently. "Can we get back to the room?"

I glared at her, but decided to drop it. "So, we leave the colors alone, we just stretch out the room?"

"And add a bathroom," said Ginny. "Three showers, three toilets, and three sinks. I'll leave the details to you."

"So much for starting simple," I teased, rolling my eyes. "Should I go fancy or Burrow-y?"

"Is that even a word?"

"Of course not."

"Burrow-y, please."

"All right, then."

"And add three beds!"

"Got it. Ginny, you need to leave while I do this."

"What?"

"_Leave_," I said, waving a hand in front of her face.

"But—"

"Ginny, get out of the room," I told her.

"Fine," she retorted, storming out of the room. I grinned after her, silently shaking with laughter. "I can hear you!" she called.

I swallowed my laughter and began coughing. "Sorry."

When I'd gotten a grip of myself, I pulled out my wand and held it out and said, "_Cella occultus_."

I immediately felt the change; it was like being surrounded by gold and scarlet threads, weaving in and out of each other to create the room. I focused hard on what we'd come up with: the larger room, the three beds, the sinks, toilets, and showers…

It took nearly three minutes for the change to finish. The wind, which I hadn't noticed until now, died. The room spun dizzily for a moment, and then focused and became clearer, sharper, and more defined.

The room had divided itself into three equal pieces in a huge circle, with a walkway that cut through the room in white carpet. In fact, everything in the room was white. I wondered how this had happened.

I could see the faint gold lines that divided the room; but apart from that, everything looks the same. I saw that at the back of the room there was a door that probably led to the bathrooms. But behind each bed, a bit to the left, there was another small door that I most definitely hadn't put there.

"Nicci?" asked Ginny. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah…," I said. "You might want to come in here, though. I'm not quite sure what happened."

"Is everything—" She broke off as she walked into the room. "Nicci, what _did _you do?"

"I'm not sure," I responded quietly.

As we spoke, I began to make out a bed in each of the patches of white. A faint humming sounded throughout the room, and we looked for the source.

It was the bed. And across the bedspread, as if it had always been there, were the words _Ginny Weasley_ in gold cursive writing.

"Well. This is weird."

"I think you should go over there," I said, starting to push her towards it.

"What? No—I—"

But she wasn't as strong as me. I managed to get her over the little gold line to her part of the room, and—

Well, that was unexpected.

Her third of the room was suddenly flooded with color. The white floor turned a light brown, the same color as her old wood flooring, and the walls turned the same blue. Her bed was the same, and the huge window and all of her old posters were back. I stared at her.

"Wow!" I finally managed, my mouth open. "I am _so_ amazing—this is much better than what we had planned. But I wonder, what about me?"

As if on cue, another third of the room, the third divided in half (Oh God, it sounds like math) by the carpet walkway, had the same white bed. With the same bedspread. But this time it was scrawled with _Nicci Lonsen_.

"Go, go, go!" cried Ginny from her bed. She looked beyond excited.

I slowly walked towards my third and, once again, as soon as I stepped over the gold line, my section of the room shifted. The walls turned a delicate shade of gold, with scarlet curtains and bedspread. The floors turned a beautiful mahogany color, also made of wood, but I saw that there was a huge fluffy red carpet on either side of the bed. The bed frame, I decided, was made of the same mahogany wood as the floors. And they were both the same wood as the large dresser and a box at the end of the bed with scarlet cushions.

On the other side of the walkway, there were four comfortable-looking chairs of red, a gold sofa, and a table and chair. Oh no—a desk.

"It's lovely," said Ginny.

"Mmm," I agreed, taking in the sight.

I sat down on the bed and marveled at how comfortable I was. When I got back to Hogwarts, the book I'd gotten the spell from would be read cover to cover.

"And there's Hermione's," commented Ginny.

"Hm?" I glanced over at Hermione's section and saw that the white bed indeed had _Hermione Granger_ scripted across it. "Oh well," I said happily. "Guess we'll just have to wait for her to see what she's got."

"D'you want to try to open these doors?" Ginny asked, gesturing to the doors next to their beds.

"We'll wait for Hermione," I decided after a second of thinking. "Oh, and Ginny?"

"What?"

"Let's try not to draw too much attention to this room yet, all right? I know it's your bedroom, but we've magically enhanced it. So go to the bathroom outside here at least once a day, and take showers there occasionally. Doesn't have to be every time; just try and keep the room a secret. At least for now."

To my surprise, Ginny nodded. "You're right."

"Seriously?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, _seriously_."

That night, Ginny sat thoughtfully in her bed staring at the stars. I sat up and pushed the surprisingly light blankets off me.

"Ginny?" I asked softly.

"Yeah?"

"What're you thinking about?"

"No one—nothing," she answered quickly.

"Hm…One guess," I said. "A certain Mr. Harry Potter?"

"Well—maybe," she said, blushing madly.

"Maybe?" I asked skeptically.

"All right, fine," she admitted. "So what if I was?"

"Ginny, you should really…how do I put this…try a different tactic," I told her.

"What d'you mean?"

"I really think you should try being Harry's friend," I said honestly. "Stop gawking at him and stop blushing every time he looks at you. Talk to him like he's your friend. At least try for human being."

Ginny glared at me. "Thanks, Nicci."

"You see? Talk to him like you talk to me or Hermione. You're really great, Ginny," I told her. "He just needs to see that. But he can't if it's hidden behind a singing get-well card."

"Oh, shut up!"

* * *

Five days later, I stood nervously in a pair of jean shorts and a dark green shirt. My hair had been let down and curled gracefully over my back. Ginny ran up and took me in.

"Nicci, just how much time did you spend on your hair this morning?"

I looked up at her curiously. "I didn't spend any time on my hair. I just let it down a minute or two ago."

She stared at me. "You're kidding, right?"

I shook my head.

"And you're worried about my brothers not liking you," she mumbled. "Where's Mum?"

"Mrs. Weasley went to the Apparition point to wait for Bill and Charlie."

"Hey, Gin-Gin!" called George, entering the kitchen. I wasn't sure how, but I always knew who was who. "Hi, Nicci—"

He broke off as he stared at me. "Wow, Nicci, really trying to impress my brothers, aren't you?" He swallowed.

"No!" I cried, frustrated. "I threw on a pair of shorts and a shirt, and I let down my hair! What on earth is so special about that?"

"Oh, nothing," he said, sitting down across from me.

"Where're Fred, Percy, and Ron?" I finally asked.

"Fred's working on something, he'll be down in a minute. Ronniekins, of course, is sleeping. And Percy's probably still working on some acceptance report."

"He's still not done yet?" I said incredulously. "He's been working on it since we got here!"

"Ah, you know perfect Percy," said George with a grin.

"Actually, I _don't_ know perfect Percy," I told him. "Not sure I want to, either."

He gave me a stare and turned to Ginny. "Ginny! You have _finally _picked an intelligent friend! I'm so proud!" He wiped a fake tear from his eye.

"I think your jokes are worse without Fred," I stated matter-of-factly. "Go get him."

He glared at me scornfully. "You just ruined the moment, Nics."

I glared back. "That was the point."

Just then, Fred walked in. "Oi! George! Nic—What are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing," I said, standing up. "I'm going to cook breakfast," I told Ginny. "Coming?"

"You can cook?" asked Ginny in amazement.

"Ginny, I haven't lived with adults in three years. Of course I can cook."

"No need to," said Fred, peering out the window. "Mum's home with Bill and Charlie."

I slid back down into my seat. "Oh no, I'm going to do something so stupid—"

"Nicci," said George loudly. He grabbed my hands and looked me in the eyes. "Everything's going to be fine. You need to calm down. There is nothing about you not to like."

"Except for my ex-Azkaban status," I said.

"Well, if it were Percy you were meeting, then you would have to be worried," he said, beginning to laugh. "But Bill and Charlie—nah, not so much. Charlie will be more interested in the dragons you set on the Ministry."

"Thank you for laughing at my expense, George," I snapped, finally pulling my hands out of his grasp. I wasn't even going to describe how his hands felt, because if I did, it wouldn't be helping my cause to prove Erised wrong. Her and her stupid mirror.

Am I always this dramatic?

I sincerely hope not.

Ginny plopped down next to me, her head in her hands. "I'm tired," she said. "I think my bed got more comfortable last night."

"Isn't that true—"

"—with all of us, dear Gin-Gin?" finished Fred.

"Stop calling me 'Gin-Gin'," she growled.

"Hello? Anybody awake?" called Mrs. Weasley, opening the back door.

"In here, Mrs. Weasley," I said, lifting my head up.

"Who's up, Nicci?" she called back.

"Er, Ginny, Fred, George, and I," I said. "Ron's still asleep and Percy—well, no one knows what he's doing in there."

Fred sniggered.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Weasley."

"Yeah, Fred, as if Perce could do anything _slightly_ improper," said a deep voice. Two men walked in—the one who'd spoken was short and heavily-built; he had several long scratches and scars all down his arms.

"Hi, Charlie," said Ginny.

"Ginny!" cried the other man, picking her up and hugging her. He was tall, with long red hair tied back in a ponytail and an earring on one ear. He had Muggle clothes on, except for his boots, which I recognized immediately as dragon hide. "Hey, Mum, who's this?" he asked, gesturing to me.

"Nicci Lonsen," I said, standing up without incident.

"Friend of mine," said Ginny. "She's staying with us during the summer until she's of age."

"Lovely," said Charlie, looking me over. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss…Lonsen?"

"Nicci," I corrected.

"Or Nics," said George from the table.

"If you call me that, then I will hex you," I informed them. "Only George is allowed to call me that, and the only reason _he's_ allowed to call me that is because he'd probably think up something worse."

"I don't think you can use magic, Nicci," said Charlie. "But it's probably true about George."

"Oh, she can," snickered Ginny. "Don't put anything past this one." She elbowed me.

Bill laughed. "It'll definitely be interesting getting to know you," he said to me. "Play any Quidditch?"

"Of course I do," I said.

"Trying out for the team this year?"

"Of course not."

Fred looked confused. "Why not?"

"Because there isn't going to be any Quidditch this year," I said.

"Really?" asked Ginny in interest. "Why not?"

"You're going to have to wait," I replied, rubbing my eyes.

"You know about that?" asked Charlie in surprise.

"Nicci knows everything," said Ginny, adding some butter to the toast that had suddenly appeared on the table. "What's the secret?"

"Sorry, can't tell you," said Bill, rubbing his hands together. "But it'll be spectacular."

"Oh yeah—spectacular," I said, yawning. "Why am I tired? Ginny, you jinxed me."

"I did nothing," said Ginny indignantly. "I still think you spent two hours on your hair."

"Would you please leave my hair out of it? I didn't do anything to it."

"Make-up, then." Ginny had learned about make-up from Hermione during the year.

"Ginny, I'm not _wearing_ make-up."

She rubbed her finger across my face then looked at it. "Hm. Maybe you're not."

"What's make-up?" asked Ron, coming into the kitchen. "Is it some kind of food?"

I laughed. "Considering it's toxic to the stomach, I'd assume not."

"Oh." Ron considered for a moment. "Then where is the food?"

"Over here," said Ginny. Ron sat down next to her and grabbed two pieces of toast and the butter. "Morning to you too, Ron."

"Morning, Ginny. Oh, hey Bill, Charlie! Bloody hell, I didn't know you were coming today!"

"_Language_, Ron!" called Mrs. Weasley.

"Sorry," he muttered before turning back to his toast.

"Articulate, isn't he?" whispered Ginny in my ear.

"Very."

"So, Nicci, what're your parents like?" asked Bill, obviously trying to make conversation.

"They're dead," I told him, holding back a laugh as I saw Ginny, George, and Fred immediately look angry. Ron, of course, was busy eating.

"I'm sorry," said Bill quickly.

"It's fine," I said reassuringly. "It happened a while ago."

"Morning, all," said Percy suddenly, walking in the door with a superior expression. "Hello, Bill, Charlie."

"Hiya, Perce," said Bill, glad for the distraction.

We didn't speak any more of me or my family for the rest of the day.

* * *

Two weeks later, just a few days before Hermione came, George snuck up on me in the hallway in the morning. "Nicci," he hissed.

"What are you doing?"

"We need your help," he said, dragging me by my arm to his and Fred's room. "Hurry up."

He nearly pushed me through the door to the bedroom. I glanced around the room. The room looked like Ginny's (before we changed it, anyway), besides the fact that the paint was red, and the air felt charged with electricity and magic from all the products they were making. There were huge boxes just thrown aside in the corner, a desk with two chairs, and two beds. Fred was sitting on what I guessed was his bed, chewing something. A second later, he turned a bright orange that clashed terribly with his hair, followed by an electric blue, then purple, then yellow...

Finally, after a minute or so, he turned back to his normal color and took a bow. "Color Candies," he announced.

"Very good," I said. "Any special plans for them?"

"Yep," said Fred, beaming. "We're going to test them on Dudley when we pick Harry up in a few weeks."

"For the Cup?"

"Yeah," said George, sitting down on his bed and motioning for me for me to follow. His and Fred's bed were parallel to each other, so we could sit and talk. "Mum's going to send the Dursleys a letter about it. 'Course, it's just a formality. We're going to get him either way."

"Who's going?" I asked.

"Well, Ron and Dad, of course. And us. Maybe you too, if you can convince Dad."

"I think I'll do that," I said thoughtfully.

"Where's Ginny?" asked George.

"Sleeping," I answered. "How about Ron?"

"Ron and Percy are still sleeping, and Bill, Charlie, Mum, and Dad are downstairs talking," Fred told me.

"What time is it?" I finally asked, pulling a blanket around myself. "I was just getting up to use the loo when George abducted me."

"I did not abduct you," said George. "I simply—"

"—took you to an unknown place—" interrupted Fred.

"—in the same house as you were before," argued George.

"—against your will, of course," finished Fred, ignoring his twin. "Here, look at this." He pointed at another candy.

I recognized it from somewhere. "Tongue—somethings?"

"Ton-Tongue Toffees," said Fred. "Ron told us that Dursley (Dudley, that is) is on a diet. Harry sent him a letter about it. So, when we go to pick him up—"

"—we drop Color Candies and Ton-Tongue Toffees "by accident"—"

"—hopefully he'll pick up the Toffee—"

"—and we've got someone to test this little bugger!" finished George.

"Intriguing," I told them. "But what are you going to do if your mother finds all this?" I asked, gesturing to the piles of products and lists.

"That'll never happen," said Fred confidently.

* * *

That night, I was sleeping when I felt someone shaking my shoulders. "Nicci," hissed the voice.

Oh my goodness, not again!

"What?" I murmured groggily.

"Nicci, get up," said the voice.

"Go 'way," I muttered again, shaking my head.

"Nicci!"

I felt someone lifting me out of my bed. I shrieked and twisted out of their grasp, landing on the floor. I glared up at the face, and realized it was George. "I—"

"Nicci?" came Ginny's voice from the other side of the room. "Is everything okay?" She yawned.

I clapped my hand over George's mouth.

"Yeah, everything's fine," I said, feigning tiredness. "Just had a bad dream" –I elbowed George— "and it woke me up."

"Oh," said Ginny. "Well—go back to sleep."

I slipped over to Ginny's bed to make sure she was sleeping, then turned back to George. "What're you doing?" I hissed at him.

"We need your help," he said to me.

"With what?"

"Mum found a list we accidentally left around," he whispered.

I smiled smugly. "I told you she'd find out."

"That's not the point," he hissed. "Here—take this."

He thrust a huge box onto my bed.

I stared at it. "What is that?"

"It's the most important of our things," he told me. "She'll search our room for anything she can find. She'll even search Ron's. But she won't search yours. Remember, no one knows you've been helping us."

"But what if _I_ get caught?" I asked hopelessly, picking up the surprisingly light box.

He looked at me. "Don't get caught."

He turned and ducked out the door. I stared at him. "Thanks a ton," I said sarcastically to no one.

I know, I know—I did a bad thing. I opened the door next to the bed and stepped through. I needed somewhere to hide this stuff and my bed wasn't tall enough. The inside of the room was the same bright white as the Hermione's third of the room and completely empty.

A bit disappointing, to say the least.

I looked around the room in frustration and said, "I need somewhere to hide this!"

A hole appeared in the wall.

No, really.

I stared at it. And then I dashed over and poked my head in. It was cavernous, plenty big to hide everything the twins had ever created. I stuffed the box in there and turned away. When I looked back, it was gone.

That is pretty effing cool.

Magical mistakes are _so_ awesome.

* * *

"Nicci!"

"_What_?" I yelled, clapping my hands to my head. I was so sick of being woken up by someone calling my name or shaking my shoulders. I sat up, brushing my hair out of my face. Ginny was staring at me, her hands half-way through putting her hair up. "Oh. Sorry."

"You all right, Nicci?" she asked.

"No," I moaned, clambering out of bed.

"Your hair looks pretty today," she said off-handedly.

"Thanks."

"C'mon, we gotta go. We're going to get Hermione at Diagon Alley today."

"Why're we going to Diagon Alley?"

"Because Hermione's parents know where Diagon Alley is," said Ginny.

"Of course," I said, mentally slapping myself. It was morning. I was tired. Leave me alone. "Where's Ron, Fred and George?"

"They're downstairs with Bill and Charlie," said Ginny. "Dad had to go to the Ministry and Mum got rushed off to St. Mungo's."

"Why?" I asked. "Mrs. Weasley doesn't work there, does she?"

"No," said Ginny. "One of her friends is there. Apparently, she's gone slightly crazy, so today's the last day outside people can see her."

"Really?" I said, wrinkling my nose. I threw a shirt over my head. "What happened to her?"

"Overdosed a potion," explained Ginny. "Anyway, Bill and Charlie are responsible for the five of us until Mum gets there."

"That does not bode well."

"No," she agreed as we left her room. "It does not."

"Argh," I hissed as I hit my leg on the corner. "I've been doing that for a week. What is wrong?"

"It's you," said Ginny, laughing. "You're weird, Nicci."

"Thanks," I said sarcastically.

"Oi! You two! Get in here!"

"Shut up, Fred," Ginny said loudly. "We'll be in when we're good and ready."

"We have nothing to do out here," I whispered to her.

"I know," she said back. "Didn't really think this part through."

I walked through the kitchen door and sat down gracefully in between Bill and Ginny, who came in after me. "We are now good and ready," I informed them.

"Lovely," said Charlie dryly.

"It's morning," I said in defense. "Let it go."

**A/N:** Yay! That's finally up! I'm so sorry I didn't update sooner, but I was really, really busy. No excuse to you people, but still.

Anyway, about Ginny's room, the only mention of how it looks is in the seventh book. And by the time that rolls around, the room will be back to normal. I'm thinking about Ginny and Nicci getting into a fight and having Nicci put the room back to normal and do some magic on a closet or something. Don't know for sure yet. The room overall is kind of cheesy, but I like it.

Hermione and Harry are coming in the next chapter! Um, I think there will be three more chapters before everyone goes back to Hogwarts, but with me you never know.

Could be two. Could be four. Could be seven.

Nah, it probably won't be seven.

**Disclaimer:** I realized I never put one of these things on a chapter and decided I should so I don't get sued. Or something. So…here goes.

This entire story is totally mine.

No, I'm kidding. Seriously, I'm not JK Rowling. Harry Potter is not mine and none of the characters are mine.

Except for Nicci. She's mine.

I'll try and update soon!


	14. Chapter 13: Guests Galore

**Chapter 13: Guests Galore**

**Alecta:**

"Ginny!" I yelled as I stepped out into Diagon Alley.

She was picking herself up off the floor, groaning. "Okay, okay, I get the point. Yelling someone's name unnecessarily is annoying."

"Actually, I was just trying to find you. Why _are_ you down there?"

She stared up at me. "You mean, you didn't fall over?"

"Of course not," I said. "Come on, up you get." I reached out my hand and pulled her up.

"Do you think something will happen this year?" she asked me as we walked to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Well, I imagine _something_ will happen this year," I said teasingly. "But something interesting? It's Hogwarts, Ginny. Of course something interesting will happen."

"What's it like, seeing the future?"

"Odd," I replied truthfully. "And isolating. I mean, I could tell you a ton about your future, but—I can't."

"I think you should start teaching Divination," she said, looking a bit disappointed. "But what about you? Do you see all of your own future? Loves and everything?"

"No," I replied. "I don't see anything about myself. It's all from my point of view, of course, and I can hear what I'm thinking, but it's never about me."

"Well, at least it's the same for you as everyone else."

"That's mean," I said, frowning.

"Get over it."

"Oi! You two! Hermione's over _here_!" yelled George.

We ran over to Hermione's table. "Hi," I said.

"Hi."

"Hey, Hermione," Ginny panted.

"Hello. Why are you panting?"

"Ran a—ways—went the wrong way."

"Why aren't _you_ panting?" she asked.

"I don't pant," I responded. "Well, I might, but not at that short of a distance."

Ginny glared at me. "Thanks, Nicci."

"What?" I winced. "Oh."

"You two are really odd," said Hermione, shaking her head and laughing.

"Wait 'til you see what we did to Ginny's room," I snickered.

"What did you do?" Hermione asked apprehensively.

"You have to see it to believe it."

"Hey, Hermione!" cried Ron, running over. "Great to see you!"

"It's good to see you two, Ron," said Hermione, hugging him tightly. She let go, blushing slightly.

"Well, if the family reunion's over, we've got to go wait for Mum," said George. "Here, Hermione, Nicci and I'll take your suitcases."

I glared at him. "Oh, so no Fred? Me? Did you just volunteer me for suitcase-lugging?"

"Stop being so dramatic, Nicci," said George impatiently.

"Seriously! Ginny told me the same thing yesterday! I am _not dramatic_!"

"Sure, Nicci," George told me condescendingly.

"Fine," I grumbled. "Let's get out of here, shall we?"

"We have to wait for Mum," said George, pinching my cheek. I slapped his hand away.

"Do that again," I said warningly.

He laughed. Why was I so damn incapable of being threatening around him? This was getting ridiculous.

"All right, you two," said Ginny, pulling me away. "Yeah, _definitely _not flirting with my brother. You are such a bad liar."

"Actually, I'm a very good liar," I told her. "And he—he pinched my cheek! What was I supposed to do?"

She shook her head. "Anything you need to get while you're here?"

"Oh, while I'm here, I should really get Harry a birthday present," I remembered. "Hey, Bill!" He turned to look at me. "We're going to go to Gringotts to get some money from my vault."

"I'll come," said Hermione, walking over with Ron.

"Take Fred and George with you," said Charlie.

"What?" I gasped. "But—why?"

"Because they know more magic than the lot of you," said Bill. I snorted silently. That wasn't true, of course, but I couldn't tell _them_ that.

"So all six of you are going?" asked Charlie.

"Apparently," I said, grinding my teeth.

"Nicci, we have to get presents for Harry too," said Hermione, looking at my annoyed expression. "What, is there something wrong with your vault?"

"Well, no…" I trailed off. "But—oh, you'll see."

When we reached Gringotts, I walked up to the goblin at the desk. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George watched me go. "Hello," I said.

"Hello," he said, looking back at me.

I pulled the chain with my three Gringotts vault keys off my neck and handed it to the goblin. I then braced myself for the explosion.

"Good Gringotts," whispered the goblin. He cleared his throat and seemed professional, but I could see the curiosity and wonder behind his expression. "And which vault will you be visiting today, Miss…?"

"Lonsen," I said firmly. "I'm not positive, so bring all three keys. I think I'll be going to the second one today."

Ginny stared at me. "You have _three_ Gringotts vaults?"

"My father was rich," I admitted. "Exceedingly rich."

"But that—that's ridiculous."

"This way, Miss Lonsen," said the goblin. He looked over the crowd. "You three," he pointed to Hermione, Ginny, and I, "will come in this cart with me. The rest of you, come in the cart after us with Griphook." He gestured to the goblin standing a few feet away.

Griphook turned to me. "Will everyone be accompanying you to your vault, Miss Lonsen?"

I shrugged. "Why not?"

I climbed into the cart and Ginny and Hermione followed me. "Why're you staying with us if you have three Gringotts vaults?" asked Ginny. "Not that I mind you at the Burrow, on the contrary, it's wonderful to have another girl around, but…why?"

"I find I've come to crave human company," I said wisely. "If I went to live at my own place, the only people I'd have around would be Hailey and Ben, and they're not even people."

"So you're an insanely rich orphan," said Hermione as the cart started. "Just who were your parents, Nicci?"

"Well, my mum was Alexis Findor. You know that already. And my dad—" I paused, momentarily freaking out as I wondered what I should say. "—I don't really want to talk about it."

"Oh!" said Hermione, looking apologetic. "Sorry, I should've thought—"

"Hermione, we are not doing this again," I said, rolling my eyes. "It's fine. Let it go."

"We're here," announced the goblin I had yet to learn the name of. "Everyone out!"

We dismounted to a huge platform with three large doors in a row. They were made of the same stone as the rest of the vaults, but instead of being rough-cut, they were smooth and shiny. The first door was engraved with the name _Godric Gryffindor_ and the third with _Salazar Slytherin_.

"What is this place?" asked Hermione in amazement.

"Well," I said, gesturing to the two doors on the sides, "these two doors were a present to me from Alecta Gryffindor. Twelfth birthday."

"Why does Alecta Gryffindor have anything to do with Salazar Slytherin?" asked Ron.

"Alecta is Salazar's niece," I told him, raising an eyebrow. "Alecta's mother was Salia Slytherin, Salazar's younger sister."

"_What_?" asked Hermione in astonishment. The Weasleys all had wide eyes. "Godric Gryffindor's wife was _Salia Slytherin_?"

"Who said that?" I replied. "They weren't married—they hated each other."

"Then—then how did Salia get pregnant with Gryffindor's kid?"

"They were both drunk," I said soberly. "And as soon as Alecta was old enough to be without a mother, Salia handed her off the Gryffindor and never had anything to do with her."

"That's terrible," whispered Ginny softly.

"But that's beside the point," I said, shaking my head. "Griphook, I think I'll just need to open the second vault today."

"Of course," he said, bowing his head and opening the door.

I grimaced as I watched my friend's eyes just about pop out of their heads. I walked past the heaps of gold, which almost took a third of the room. The rest of the room was covered with Knuts and Sickles.

"Blimey," said Ron. "You're richer then Harry, and that's saying something."

Laughing, I said, "Thank you for the amazing compliment, Ron."

"I'm serious!"

I stuffed a bunch of money into a bag, then grabbed Ginny's hand and dragged her outside. Hermione, Fred, and Ron followed us out of the chamber, but George was still in there, staring at something.

"Wait here," I said, walking back inside. "George?" I asked. "What're you looking at?"

"What's this?" he asked me, holding up a tiny box. Inside was a ring, a beautiful silver ring, inlaid with rubies and diamonds. I knew that ring.

He took the ring out of the box and let it roll around in his hand. "Was this your mother's?"

"It was," I said, picking it out of his hand. "And then she died. My father gave it to me, and told me to take care of it." This was true, except for the wife part. It had been the family engagement ring, but when my father had never married, he gave it to me and told me to take care of it.

"What does that say?" George asked, pointing to the back.

"_For Always_," I remembered, smiling.

He stole it back. "I think you should wear it."

I looked at it, smiling. "I've never been one for jewelry."

"I don't know, I'd hold onto any memory of my family," he responded.

"Since when did you become such a sappy romantic?" I asked, looking at him. "I thought it was your job to crack the jokes."

"It's harder around you," he admitted. "I need a moment."

"Well, I don't have a moment."

"So what do you have?"

"What's twice in a moment, once in a minute, but never in a thousand years?"

"Nicci," said George, shaking his head. "_Please_ tell me you have a better punchline than 'the letter m'."

"Moment's _gone_," I said, dancing away from him.

"I still think you should wear it," said George.

How did I always find myself in these kinds of situations? Why couldn't I have a normal summer? Could the angst and drama not wait until next year?

"I'll wear it," I finally told him.

"No arguing? That's hardly you," George said teasingly.

"You just can't choose! First you want me to wear it, then you tease me when I say I will? Make up your mind, will you?"

"Nicci! George! We've got to go!" called Hermione.

"Coming," I said. I took the ring back and put it on my finger. "It looks pretty, doesn't it?"

"Are you really asking me for jewelry advice?"

I glared at him and walked out. Ginny and Hermione were waiting for me in the cart, and when I got in, Ginny turned her head and looked at me as the cart sped off.

"What's your definition of flirting again? Because if that's not flirting, I don't know what is."

"Ginny?"

"Hmmm?"

"Give it a rest."

* * *

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy birthday! My gosh, it's been what, three weeks? How're things at your aunt and uncle's? If it's anything like what Ron's said, it's probably awful. _

_Everyone's excited about you coming over this summer. Mr. Weasley hasn't gotten the tickets, but he will soon, and Ron'll send you a letter about it. You have to pretend you didn't hear anything from me, because Ron told everyone to shut up about it since he's your best friend. But since when have I ever stuck to the rules?_

_Hermione got here a few days ago. I did some "improvements" on Ginny's room (I'll help you and Ron too if you need it) and she completely flipped out. Of course, she didn't mind so much after we found out I'd accidentally put a library off her room. (It's all concealed though, I have no idea how it happened.)_

_Snuffles wrote me a few days ago too; he said your scar's been hurting you. If you're upset I found out, don't be mad at him. I just think he wanted someone in the house to know about this who'll both write him and help you. None of the Weasley's except Ron know about Snuffles being innocent. And I know and _he_ knows you won't tell Ron or Hermione right away. Hate to admit it, Harry, but you're very predictable._

_Anyway, I got you a pair of new Seeker's gloves. I think you'll like them; they're waterproof and temperature-controlled so your hands won't get frostbite or covered in sweat. Don't you just love magic?_

Nicci

* * *

"Nicci, Fred, and George! If you want to come and get Harry, you have to hurry up!"

"Lighten up, Ronnie," said Fred.

"D'you think that if we're a little late, Harry'll leave with another Wizarding family?"

I walked down the stairs and was met with the sight of Mr. Weasley wearing his normal robes and Ron, wearing Muggle clothes and looking impatient. He was tapping his foot on the floor.

"Y'know, you look a bit like Hermione when you do that," I pointed out.

"It is half past five!" cried Ron, completely ignoring me. "I told Harry we would be there at _five_!"

"Would you calm down?" I asked. "We're here, we're here, we're going."

"Yeah, well—"

"I'm going to go first," said Mr. Weasley loudly, interrupting us. "Fred, you come next. Nicci, you come after Fred, and then George, you go next. And Ron can follow up last."

"Sure," I said cheerily.

Mr. Weasley stepped into the fire and cried, "Number Four, Privet Drive!"

As soon as Mr. Weasley was gone, Fred stepped into the fireplace and said, "Number Four, Privet Drive!"

He vanished into the bright green flames too. I walked over to the fireplace, grabbed some Floo Powder and yelled, "Number Four, Privet Drive!"

I was gone in a flash of green. The next thing I knew, I was lying uncomfortably in a dark sort of passageway. "OUCH!"

"Wha—?"

"Nicci, go back and warn—"

"Ouch!" I cried as I felt someone land on top of me. "George, get off!"

"As much as I'd love to do that, Nicci, I don't think I can," said George sarcastically.

"George, no, there's no room, go back quickly and tell Ron—"

"Maybe Harry can hear us, Dad—maybe he'll be able to let us out—"

"Harry? Harry, can you hear us?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"Uh, George?" I asked, realizing uncomfortably where his hand had fallen. "You need to move your hand."

"Nicci, I _can't_."

"No, really. You _need_ to move your hand."

There was a small 'oh' and the hand was shifted onto my stomach. Small improvements.

"Mr. Weasley, can you hear me?" came Harry's voice.

I hissed a "shh!" to Fred, who was hammering on something.

"Mr. Weasley, it's Harry…the fireplace has been blocked up. You won't be able to get through here."

"Damn!" said Mr. Weasley. "What on earth did they want to block up the fireplace for?"

"They've got an electric fire," replied Harry.

"Really?" asked Mr. Weasley. "Eclectic, you say? With a _plug_? Good gracious, I must see that—"

"It's _electric_, Mr. Weasley," I corrected him. "And can we please discuss this when we're not trapped in a chimney? This is just—ouch, Ron!"

"What are we doing here? Has something gone wrong?"

"Oh no, Ron," said Fred from my other side. I realized that I was slightly standing, with Fred just below my knee and George trapped between me and the wall. Ron was sitting on Fred with his feet on George's feet. This was _very_ awkward. I was never doing this again. "No, this was exactly where we wanted to end up."

"Yeah, we're having the time of our lives here," said George, who apparently had his jokes back.

"This is ridiculous," I finally stated. "Mr. Weasley, please do something!"

"I'm trying to think what to do…Yes…only way…Stand back, Harry."

"Wait a moment!" came an unpleasant voice from the other side of the boards. "What exactly are you going to—"

He was cut off as a huge bang exploded from the end of Mr. Weasley's wand. Suddenly, there was nothing holding us up anymore and the five of us exploded out, landing on the floor.

"That's the last time I listen to you and your Wizarding ideas," I muttered darkly. "Next time, I'm renting a car."

"Ah, that's better," said Mr. Weasley, walking towards a group of people who might just have been the ugliest humans I'd ever seen. It appeared that all three of them strongly resembled animals. The woman, who I assumed was Petunia Dursley, Lily's sister, looked quite a bit like a horse. She had high, thin, cheekbones and—I couldn't even describe.

The man, Vernon Durlsey, looked like a walrus without the fangs. He currently had a red face, with the most horrid mustache I'd ever seen. The color of his hair, eyebrows, and mustache didn't match at all, which made him look even worse. I hadn't seen the kid yet, though.

"I can put it right in a jiffy, though, don't worry. I'll light a fire to send the boys and Nicci back, and then I can repair your fireplace before I Disapparate."

"Hi, Harry!" I said brightly. He smiled.

"Got your trunk ready?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"It's upstairs," answered Harry.

"We'll get it," said Fred immediately. He and George left, Fred winking at Harry. I shook my head slightly and grinned.

"Well," said Mr. Weasley awkwardly. "Very—erm—very nice place you've got here."

I raised my eyebrows at him; the place was a mess. The whole room was covered with dust and brick. "No," I said, shaking my head. "Not really."

Mr. Weasley opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again. "They run off eckeltricity, do they?" He gestured to the television. "Ah, yes, I can see the plugs. I collect plugs," he added to the Dursleys. "And batteries. Got a very large collection of batteries. My wife thinks I'm mad, but there you are."

I had to hold my breath to keep from laughing.

"Who're you?" asked Mr. Dursley. "You're not a red-head…like the rest of them." He gave a jerk of his head towards Ron and Mr. Weasley.

"Nicci Lonsen," I answered. "I'm staying with the Weasleys over the summer."

Mr. Dursley seemed a bit taken aback by the idea that anyone would _willingly_ stay with the Weasleys.

"You do know I'm a witch, right?" I asked, looking a bit skeptical.

Dursley looked like he was about to answer, but fell silent when the son, Dudley, finally entered the room. I almost gagged. It seemed as though he'd gotten the worst of his two parents. In fact, he sorta looked like a pig, which completed the family. For some reason, he appeared to be trying to cover his huge bottom with his hands, which were nowhere near big enough. I'd have to find out about that.

"Ah, this is your cousin, is it, Harry?" asked Mr. Weasley, trying to start up a conversation again.

"Yep," said Harry, "that's Dudley."

He and Ron exchanged a look, then turned away.

Fred and George came back into the room. Great, another devious duo. They caught sight of Dudley, and their faces split into grins. This, of course, could mean nothing good.

"Ah, right," said Mr. Weasley. "Better get cracking, then."

He took out his wand and cried, "_Incendio!_"

He started feeling around his pockets. "Now… where did I put the Floo powder?"

I pulled it out of my jacket pocket. "You left it at the Burrow, Mr. Weasley."

"Ah! Thank you, Nicci!" He threw a pinch of powder into the fire, which immediately turned that emerald color. "Off you go, then, Fred."

"Coming," said Fred. "Oh no—hang on—"

I whirled around and saw with a barely suppressed grin that Fred had put the first of their plan into action. His pocket had ripped and the Color Candies, Ton-Tongue Toffees, Babble Bubble-Gums, and Slime Specials had fallen everywhere.

He picked them all up, but I saw out of the corner of my eye that Dudley had grabbed one. Fred walked over to the fire, gave a cheery wave and yelled, "the Burrow!"

"Right then, George," said Mr. Weasley, "you and the trunk."

Harry and George carried the trunk to the fire and George cried, "the Burrow!" too. He vanished.

"Nicci, you next." I nodded, grinned brightly at the Dursleys, and stepped into the flames. "The Burrow!" I yelled.

When I was expelled into the Burrow kitchen, I sat down next to George and Bill and said, laughing, "Dudley got it. Nice job, guys."

"Did you see which one it was?" asked George eagerly.

"I think…I think it was a Ton-Tongue Toffee," I told him.

"Excellent," said Fred and George together. "Did he eat it?"

"Not when I left," I said. "But he will."

Ron appeared out of the fire and sat down at the table. "Where're Harry and Mr. Weasley?" I asked.

"Harry's coming in a minute and Dad's Disapparating back," said Ron.

"Where're Ginny and Hermione?" asked Charlie, looking around.

"They went down to the lake before we left," I told them. "They'll be back soon."

A minute passed. Finally, Bill said, "What could be keeping them?"

"I don't know," I said.

Another minute passed, and we suddenly heard the Floo powder deposit someone on the floor of the kitchen. Fred, who was closest to the fireplace, jumped up to help Harry to his feet.

"Did he eat it?" asked Fred excitedly.

"Yeah," said Harry, getting to his feet. "What _was_ it?"

"Ton-Tongue Toffee," said Fred. "George and I invented them," he shot me a questioning glance, and I nodded, "and we've been looking for someone to test them on all summer…"

Everyone burst into laughter.

"How're you doing, Harry?" asked Charlie, reaching out to shake his hand. Bill got to his feet too and shook Harry's hand.

With a loud popping sound, Mr. Weasley appeared directly behind George and I. I swung around to look at him and realized he was angry. "That _wasn't funny_, Fred!" he yelled. "What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?"

"I didn't give him anything," said Fred. That was stretching the truth to the breaking point.

I _knew_ I liked them!

"I just _dropped_ it," he continued, "It was his fault he went and ate it, I never told him to."

"You dropped it on purpose!" shouted Mr. Weasley. Either he was very sharp or he had been around Fred and George _way_ too long. "You knew he'd eat it, you knew he was on a diet—"

"Was he?" I asked, trying not to laugh again. "Didn't seem to be doing him much good, did it?"

"How big did his tongue get?" asked George.

"It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!"

I gasped and started laughing. That was priceless.

"It _isn't funny_!" roared Mr. Weasley. "That sort of behavior seriously undermines wizard-Muggle relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons—"

"We didn't give it to him because he's a Muggle!" protested Fred.

"No, we gave it to him because he's a great bullying git," said George. "Isn't he, Harry?"

"Yeah, he is, Mr. Weasley," said Harry earnestly.

"That's not the point! You wait until I tell your mother—"

"Tell me what?" asked Mrs. Weasley, emerging from the shadows. Damn, that woman was almost as good at that as I was. "Oh hello, Harry, dear," she sidetracked. But then she snapped back to focus. "Tell me _what_, Arthur?"

That is awkward. I knew that Mr. Weasley would never have told Mrs. Weasley what had happened. He gets angry; he doesn't get cruel.

There were a few moments silence before I spotted Ginny and Hermione behind Mrs. Weasley from the doorway. I waved to them and smiled; they waved back. Harry caught sight of them and grinned at them, which made Ginny blush madly—I was going to have to have another word with her about him.

"Tell me _what_, Arthur?" repeated Mrs. Weasley.

I silently got up and walked over to Ginny and Hermione. "Hey," I whispered.

"Hi," said Ginny quietly. "What happened?"

"Fred and George dropped one of their candies…Dudley picked it up and ate it."

Ginny gaped. "They didn't! Which one?"

"Ton-Tongue Toffee," I replied, grinning.

"Why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping, Ron?" said Hermione, interrupting our silent conversation.

"He knows where he's sleeping," said Ron, "In my room, he slept there last—"

I put my head in my hands. How could anyone be so _thick_?

"We can all go," said Hermione obviously.

"Oh," said Ron, catching on at long last. "Right."

"Yeah, we'll come too," said George.

"_You stay where you are_," snarled Mrs. Weasley.

Harry and Ron edged out of the room and joined Ginny, Hermione, and I on the rickety staircases.

"What're Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?" asked Harry suddenly.

I snickered; Ginny and Ron laughed. Hermione looked disapproving.

"Mum found this stack of order forms while she was cleaning Fred and George's room," said Ron as though he expected Mrs. Weasley to jump out at him. "Great long price lists for stuff they've invented. Joke stuff, you know. It was brilliant, I never knew they'd been inventing all that…"

I smoothed my face over into the perfect lie.

"We've been hearing explosions out of their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually _making things_," said Ginny. It was becoming harder to keep the perfect façade up. "We thought they just liked the noise."

"Only, most of the stuff—well, all of it, really—was a bit dangerous," continued Ron, "and, you know, they were planning to sell it at Hogwarts to make some money, and Mum went mad at them. Confisticated everything she could find, which wasn't much, really. We think they hid it somewhere, but Mum searched the whole house and couldn't find a thing. So she burned the order forms and told them they weren't allowed to make any more…She's furious at them anyway. They didn't get as many O.W.L.s as she expected."

So much for the façade. Now I was just trying not to look guilty.

"And then there was this big row," explained Ginny, "because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad and they told her all they wanted to do was open a joke shop."

Just then Percy stuck his head out of his room and I lost track of the conversation. Conversations with Percy were always boring. So I listened without hearing and walked up the stairs to Ron's room.

I was suddenly jerked out of my trance by the sound of Ron slamming the door to his room. "Shut _up_, Pig," he said to the tiny owl. "Fred and George are in here with us, because Bill and Charlie are in their room."

"Here," I said, after squeezing in between two beds. "Let's fix this."

Ron gave me a questioning look.

I raised my wand and said, "_Cella Impendo!_"

The room thankfully didn't turn white this time. Instead, the room seemed to stretch out and move the beds so two were on one side and two were on the other. The colors were still the same, and all the posters of that _horrible_ team the Chudley Cannons were still there, but there were now small dressers between the beds. There were also two small doors that I suspected led to closets.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all stared at me. Ginny simply looked around the room and said, "Well, at least everything didn't turn white this time."

"How did you _do_ that?" asked Hermione.

"Magic," I responded.

"But—but underage wizards can't _do_ magic!"

"Well, not many underage wizards have been to Azkaban, have they? In Azkaban, they write you off the map. They don't expect you to ever get out. Anyway, I like it. It's much better now that it's not cramped."

"How do we change it back?" asked Ron in interest.

"I'm changing it back as soon as Fred and George go back to their room," I told him firmly.

"Here, Pig!" cried Ron, motioning to the owl with his hands. Pig had been trying to make another escape, it seemed.

"Er—why are you calling that owl Pig?" asked Harry.

"Because he's being stupid," said Ginny. "Its proper name is Pigwidgeon."

"Ginny, I know you like that name, but it's even worse," I moaned. "I wish you hadn't gotten to him first."

Ginny glared at me.

"I tried to change it," said Ron, " but it was too late. So now he's Pig. He's got to stay up here with me, too, because he annoys Errol and Hermes. He annoys me too, come to that."

"Where's Thaniel?" Harry asked me.

"Mmm…Last I knew, he was somewhere in Russia," I said thoughtfully. "but he might be in Romania now, come to think of it."

"And…you don't mind?"

"No," I said. "He always comes back—he's not a normal pet, you see. Shape-shifters have to be able to go wherever need be. But they're extremely loyal—they always return to their owner."

"Cool," said Ginny.

"Hey, Harry, have you heard from—" began Ron, but with a warning glare from Hermione he fell silent. I realized that he was about to ask about Sirius; Ginny didn't know he was innocent yet, so that'd be a disaster in the making. I'd have to have Hermione help explain about him tonight.

Ginny looked curiously between the four of us.

"I think they've stopped arguing," said Hermione finally, breaking the awkward silence. "Should we go down and help with dinner?"

* * *

**A/N: **I'm done with this chapter! Yay! I think I'm going to make that first sentence a tradition from now on. No? Maybe not.

So, we're into the fourth book now.

That's it.

P.S. Do I really need to put another disclaimer? Ah, fine. No persons (except Nicci) or magical terms are mine or will ever be mine. The story isn't mine either.


	15. Chapter 14: Breaking the Rules

**Chapter 14: Breaking the Rules**

**Alecta:**

After dinner, the Fred and George cornered me on the stairway up to Ginny's room. They stood in front of me, arms crossed, attempting to look serious.

It wasn't working very well.

"Hey, guys," I said. "What's, er, up?"

They gave me their best skeptic look. "I think you know why we're here."

"Because you live here?" I asked, going for the dumb and innocent tactic.

That didn't work very well either. Damn it. "Lonsen, you owe us," said George.

"Oh, last name," I said, crossing my arms as well. "I'm in trouble now."

"You let us take all the blame for something you helped with," said Fred severly. "You owe us."

I thought about it for a second. "That's fair," I finally decided, shrugging. "What can I help you with?"

They stared at me. "Seriously?" asked Fred. "You're not going to put up a fight?"

"Well, I can use magic, and you two can't, but still—I do owe you. So what do you want?"

"Well," said George, "we wanted to get a little money from—"

"Gambling? Really?" I asked in defeat. "Fine…" I racked my brains for something useful. "Quidditch Cup, right?"

"You're good," said George.

"You seem surprised," I muttered. "I think—Ireland wins," I told them. "But the Bulgarian Seeker catches the Snitch—Victor Krum, right?"

"Yeah," said Fred. "So, Ireland wins, but Krum catches the Snitch?"

"I—I _think_—yeah," I confirmed. "That's it."

"Thank you, Nicci!" said George in a falsely high voice. "We will not abuse this knowledge in the slightest."

"Except for when you gamble this knowledge," I said, raising my eyebrows.

"Well, yeah," said Fred. "Except for then."

I shook my head and walked up to Ginny's room.

* * *

I sat up suddenly; all my sleep had been suddenly jerked out of me by a sharp pain on my ankle. I stood up and stared out the window by Ginny; argh, it could only be five in the morning.

Ah, crap. The Quidditch Cup was today. I walked over to my dresser silently and pulled on a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a hooded green sweater. Hearing someone climbing up the stairs, I put my socks on and walked over to the door.

"Mrs. Weasley?" I asked quietly. I didn't even yawn; when I woke up, I didn't go back to sleep.

"Nicci?" she asked in surprise. "You're up?"

"I get up at odd times," I told her truthfully. "I'll go wake up the boys if you want."

She nodded. "You do that. I'm going to go finish breakfast."

I turned away and headed upstairs. Silently opening Ron's room, I made out four beds, nicely spread apart from my wandwork yesterday. I shuffled over to Harry and shook his shoulder.

"Harry," I hissed. "Harry! Wake up! It's time to go!"

"Nicci?" he murmured groggily. "What're you doing in here?"

"Coming to get you," I muttered, walking over to Ron. "Ron! Ron!" I shook his shoulder even harder.

"Ow! Wha—?" He stared up at me before pulling up his blankets and hissing, "Bloody hell, Nicci. Give a guy some warning!"

"Hmm…I would've if you hadn't been _asleep_, Ron," I said, narrowing my eyes.

Walking over to Fred and George, I suddenly remembered what had happened when George had woken me up in the middle of the night. Payback! "_Wingardium Leviosa,_" I whispered. He floated about two feet in the air, then dropped back to the bed.

"Ow!" yelped George, sitting up in bed. He glared up at me, and I crossed my arms. "Didn't even have the decency to do it manually, did you?"

"Oh, please," I snorted. "I can't pick you up. Good morning."

"You—Huh?"

"It's time to go to the Quidditch Cup!" I said in a sing-song voice. I walked over to Fred, who was somehow still asleep and shook him awake.

"'S time already?" said Fred.

"Five minutes," I told them sharply and left the room. I scrambled down to Ginny's room and began waking them up.

"Argh! Nicci, go _away_!"

"Nice," I said, crossing my arms. "Are you kicking me out? Found Hermione's company more interesting then mine?"

Ginny groaned. "Fine, I'm getting up. Happy now?"

"Personally, I think you've spent too much time with your brothers."

She threw a pillow at me, which missed me by several feet. I shook my head and walked over to Hermione, who was sleeping on her blue-and-green bed. I'd learned early this summer that Hermione liked lighter colors. And my part of the room was anything but light. I'd never been a depressed/gothic/suicidal type a person, but light colors had just always annoyed me. Fortunately, she wasn't too bad, so I'd decided to ignore it.

"I'm already up," she said to me, sitting up. "I'd have to be dead not to hear you and Ginny."

"It's probable," I told her, grinning. "Come on, you two, up and atom!" (**A/N:** I have no idea if that's how it's spelled, but I think that's it.)

"Easy for you to say," grumbled Ginny. "You have the weirdest ability to be everywhere and never get tired."

I picked the pillow off the floor and threw it at her head. "Come _on_, Ginny!"

"Ow! For a feather pillow, that was really hard!"

And so, despite my various tactics, we didn't make it downstairs until about ten minutes later. As I followed Hermione and Ginny into the kitchen, I heard Mr. Weasley say, "We've got a bit of a walk."

I groaned.

"What?" asked Harry. "Are we walking to the World Cup?"

Mr. Weasley launched into an explanation that I would've listened to, had it not been for the shove against my leg. I looked at George, who was sitting next to me, and he motioned to look at his hand. He was holding a huge bag with a small note on the top. _Hide this._

"Oh, come on!" I hissed to him. "Not again! I am not your partner-in-crime!"

"Nicci, you know she's going to check us," said George logically. "Just hide it and then we'll take it again."

"Fine," I whispered. "But this is the last time!"

"Sure," said George patronizingly.

I glared at him but took the bag and put it my pocket, casting a silent Undetectable Concealing Charm on the pocket. I didn't like silent magic much, but it was easy to do.

"George!" said Mrs. Weasley suddenly.

"What?" he asked innocently. Some day I'd have to tell him that he couldn't _be_ innocent.

"What is that in your pocket?"

"Nothing!" He was lying. Well, that I knew, but he didn't seem worried at all. I had a sneaking suspicion that he'd given me the good stuff and he and Fred had all the useless stuff.

"Don't you lie to me!" Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at Fred and George. "_Accio!_"

Seriously, a Summoning Charm? Even if she had pointed her wand at me, it wouldn't have made any difference.

"We told you to destroy these!" yelled Mrs. Weasley, holding up some Ton-Tongue Toffees she'd found. "We told you to get rid of the lot! Go on, empty your pockets, both of you!"

She continued to Summon the products until she was satisfied she had them all. Obviously, Fred wasn't in on the swap, because he shouted, "We spent six months developing those!"

"Oh, a fine way to spend six months!" screamed Mrs. Weasley. "No wonder you two didn't get more O.W.L.s!"

Oh, boy.

When we finally left, Fred and George pulled me away from Ginny and Hermione and I took out the bag.

"Wonderful acting skills, huh?" asked George.

"Acting—what're you talking about?" said Fred. "What's that?"

"You didn't tell your other half?" I asked in mock horror. "What is the world coming to?"

"George, what did you do?"

"Well," said George. "I might have smuggled our best products out of the house with a certain friend of ours." He slung his arm around my shoulder. "And put all the busted products in our pockets."

"I was right! Yes!" I cried happily.

"You—Amazing! I'm so proud!" said Fred excitedly, wiping a fake tear from his eye. "And that's all our good stuff?"

George took a bow. I was a bit impressed that he managed it, as we were walking.

"Yes, very amazing," I said. "Can I go now?"

They nodded. I sped up and caught up with Harry and Mr. Weasley, just as Harry asked, "What sort of objects are Portkeys?"

"Well, they can be anything, really," said Mr. Weasley. "Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don't go picking up and playing with them…stuff they'll think is just litter…"

The conversation silenced as we walked down the freezing road towards the town. Eventually, we climbed a hill I had yet to learn the name of—maybe Stouthead Hill or something? When we reached the top, I looked around cheerfully, before staring at Harry and Mr. Weasley, who were both gasping for breath.

"What are you panting for?" I asked. "Wasn't that bad!"

"Says you," muttered Ginny darkly as she reached the top. "You're just—good at everything."

"No," I told her, shaking my head. "I can't run to save my life."

"Now we just need the Portkey," interrupted Mr. Weasley. "It won't be big…come on…"

I moaned, but started looking around for the Portkey. After a few minutes, I decided to just attempt to use magic or something, when a voice yelled, "Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it!"

"Amos!" cried Mr. Weasley, making his way towards two figures at the top of the hill. Amos…Amos Diggory, maybe? Anyway, Diggory was holding an old moldy boot. I grimaced silently. "This is Mr. Diggory, everyone. He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"You've got some work to do," I muttered under my breath.

Fred and George sniggered.

"And I think you know his son, Cedric?" finished Mr. Weasley. Cedric was good-looking, I supposed. But had a nagging feeling at the back of my mind that something bad was going to happen to him. I couldn't remember _what_, though.

Cedric looked around at everyone and said, "Hi." I said hi back and flashed him a brilliant smile. He stared at me about thirty seconds longer than he should have.

George cleared his throat loudly.

"Long walk, Arthur?" asked Diggory.

"Not too bad," said Mr. Weasley. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he passes his Apparition test," said Diggory. I thought hard; I knew there was _something_ about this boy Cedric. But what was it? I had to remember… "All these yours, Arthur?"

"Oh no, only the redheads," said Mr. Weasley. "This is Hermione, friend of Ron's—Nicci," he motioned to me, "is a friend of Ginny's—and Harry, another friend—"

"Merlin's beard," said Diggory, eyes wide. "Harry? Harry _Potter_?"

I mouthed a "wow" to Ginny, who grinned back.

"Ced's talked about you, of course," said Diggory. "Told us about playing you last year…I said to him, I said—Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will…_You beat Harry Potter_!"

I glared at him angrily. I noticed that Fred and George had started scowling again, and Harry was speechless. Cedric just looked embarrassed.

"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," he muttered. "I told you…it was an accident…"

"Yes, but _you_ didn't fall off, did you?" said Diggory.

At this point, my temper got the better of me. "Oh yeah," I said furiously. "Why doesn't your son fly a hundred feet off the ground surrounded by dementors intent on feeding off your happy memories? We'll see how long he lasts!"

A cold wind blasted through the air as I challenged him. Diggory had turned temporarily mute.

"Must be nearly time," said Mr. Weasley quickly. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more?"

"No, the Lovegoods have been there a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," said Diggory shakily. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of," said Mr. Weasley. "Yes, it's a minute off…We'd better get ready…"

I walked over to Ginny and grinned at her before putting my hand on the boot. She leaned over and whispered, "Good job with Diggory."

"Is it just me, or is he not very sensitive?"

"I wonder," she muttered darkly.

"Three…" said Mr. Weasley. "…two…one…"

I felt the familiar tug of the Portkey in my navel and the sensation of moving insanely fast—this was almost worse than Apparition—and then it was over. I was standing next to Cedric and Mr. Weasley, looking down at Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George.

I looked over at them. "What _are_ you doing?"

Fred groaned and pulled himself up. "Having a lie-in, Nicci."

"Yeah, it's always good to take a nap on the ground after using a Portkey."

I helped George up and said, "Having fun with that nap, then?"

"Yeah. A ball."

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I know. It's short. Sue me.

Actually, I am really sorry about that. I got a new laptop, and I've been really busy, so I haven't gotten the chance to update. Sorry! The next one will be up soon.

Disclaimer: You know the drill.

I've been skimming over my author notes for the past few updates and I realized something! I haven't been thanking you guys for all the great reviews you've left me, which actually makes me kind of sad. Because you guys are really nice.

See you!


	16. Chapter 15: Firewood Fellows

**Chapter 15: Firewood Fellows**

**Alecta:**

I brushed off my hands and looked around. It was very misty, which was resulted in a problem. I couldn't see three feet in front of me. I ended up tripping over Fred and barely catching myself.

"Morning, Basil," said Mr. Weasley to a wizard I'd definitely seen at the Ministry. I stood directly behind George so I couldn't be seen.

"Hang on," I heard the wizard Basil say, "I'll find your campsite…Weasley…Weasley…About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Diggory…second field…ask for Mr. Payne."

"Thanks, Basil," responded Mr. Weasley. He motioned with his hand for everyone to follow him, and so we did. It was still to foggy to see anything.

"Morning!" called Mr. Weasley brightly as we approached what appeared to be a gate. I tripped over a root and grabbed George's arm for support. Blushing furiously, I decided there was only one explanation—I was not a morning person.

I tried to make myself look presentable, and by the time I caught track of the conversation, the man, Mr. Roberts, was saying, "Aye. You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"

"That's it," said Mr. Weasley.

"You'll be paying now, then?" asked Mr. Roberts. He was, I decided, a Muggle. _Come on, Nicci_, I berated myself. _You're missing the most obvious details. Wake up, will you?_

Oh yeah. Definitely not a morning person.

"Ah—right—certainly," said Mr. Weasley. He dragged Harry off and I was pretty sure he was asking him about Muggle money.

"Well, this is exciting," whispered Ginny dryly. "Anything more and I might just faint."

"I'll be sure to catch you," I told her, laughing.

"This is fascinating!" said Hermione next to us. "I mean, I can just make out the Quidditch pitch—I don't care much for the playing, but the building itself is quite good. Maybe I'll get a better look at the architecture later…"

Ginny and I stared at her. "You're kidding, right?" asked Ginny disbelievingly.

"Foreign?" asked Mr. Weasley. I stared at him—what was he going on about?

"You're not the first person to have trouble with money," said Mr. Roberts carefully. "I had two try and pay me in great gold hubcaps earlier."

"What on earth is a hubcap?" I asked Ginny quietly.

"I don't know," she said. "I think he might be talking about galleons, though."

"A hubcap or wheel cover is a decorative disk on a car that covers all of the lug nuts that attach the wheel to its axle," said Hermione impatiently.

"Are you sure you didn't eat a dictionary when you were young?" I asked. "Because I think that was word for word."

She frowned at me before turning away. I started to snigger and heard Mr. Roberts say, "There's a bloke walking 'round in a kilt and a poncho."

Excuse me? What did he just say?

"Shouldn't he?" asked Mr. Weasley anxiously. He caught my eye and I shook my head.

"It's like some sort of…I dunno…like some sort of rally," said Mr. Roberts. "They all seem to know each other. Like a big party."

"You know, for a Muggle, he's pretty sharp," I whispered to Hermione and Ginny.

Hermione nodded. "How have they been keeping him unaware?"

"Memory Charms," said Ginny and I at the same time. "C'mon, Hermione, you don't think they're going to let him riddle it out, do you?"

"_Obliviate_!" said a sharp voice. I looked up and saw a wizard had appeared outside Mr. Robert's front door.

"A map of the campsite for you," said Mr. Roberts dreamily, holding out a map and money with the look of modified memory. "And your change."

If he'd been a girl, he might've sounded a bit like Luna.

The wizard (I think his name might've been Stevensons or something) came with us to the gate. Once we were far away from Mr. Roberts, he said, "Been having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman's not helping. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you around, Arthur."

After the wizard Disapparated, Ginny said, "I thought Mr. Bagman was the Head of Magical Games and Sports."

"He is," I muttered.

"He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn't he?"

"He should," I snorted. "'Course, that hasn't stopped him, has it?"

"Yes, well, Ludo's always's been a bit…well…_lax_ about security."

"He's not lax about security," I snapped. "He completely ignores it."

"You don't like him, do you?" asked Ginny.

"I know enough about him," I growled harshly. I had a couple of Goblin friends, who all said the same thing. Ludo Bagman was _bad news_. He had cheated several Goblins, lost tons of money through gambling, and was still betting. Not to mention that I'd seen a few of his Quidditch games—nothing to be _that_ proud of.

After twenty minutes of walking, and several ostentatious Wizarding tents, we stopped in front of a piece of ground near the edge of the woods marked WEEZLY.

Good to know people can spell.

"We couldn't have a better spot!" cried Mr. Weasley happily. "The field is just on the other side of those woods there, couldn't have picked a better spot."

"Hermione," I hissed. "How could you have seen the pitch if it's all the way over _there_?"

"Maybe I saw one of these tents," said Hemione, looking around. "Honestly, they're big enough to be houses, aren't they?"

"Hermione, we're wizards," I said. "Big and bold is what we're famous for…Well, in the Wizarding community, at least."

"C'mon, you two, help with the tent!" said Mr. Weasley excitedly. Ron, Ginny, Fred and George hung back uncertainly, obviously unsure of what to do, but Hermione and I walked over and helped Harry. I'd practically lived in a tent for at least six-hundred years, so I cancelled out Mr. Weasley, who was very unhelpful.

Finally, we got up and looked down at two tents, both quite small. I imagined there was a lot more inside. Mr. Weasley got onto his knees and looked into the tent.

"It'll be a bit cramped," he called, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."

I got down and crawled in behind him. I had been right. It was a three-room flat, with a bathroom, kitchen, and slightly mismatched furniture.

"Well, its not for long," said Mr. Weasley, mopping his forehead. "I borrowed this from Perkins down at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore. Poor fellow, he's got lumbago."

He looked into an old kettle. "We'll need water…"

"There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us," said Ron, coming into the tent. "It's on the other side of the field."

"Well, why don't you, Harry, and Hermione go and get us some water then," said Mr. Weasley, handing over some saucepans and the kettle. "And the rest of us can get some wood for the fire."

"But we've got an oven," I said, frowning.

"Yeah," said Ron. "Why don't we just—"

"Ron, anti-Muggle security!" cried Mr. Weasley excitedly. "When real Muggles camp, they cook on outdoor fires. I've seen them at it!"

"D'you want to come with us, Nicci?" asked Hermione, as we left to tour our tent.

"Nah, I'll stay with the Weasleys and make sure we don't burn anything down," I said importantly. "As the only one left with Muggle experience, it's my job to regulate them."

Hermione laughed, and after finishing the tour, Harry, Ron, and Hermione left. I waved as they went, then turned back to Ginny. "Your dad is loving every moment of this."

"He is, isn't he?" giggled Ginny, shaking her head. "It's so like him."

"All right, everyone, let's get some firewood!" cried Mr. Weasley. Ginny, George, Fred and I stared at him.

"Is it possible to be too happy?" I asked suspiciously.

"I dunno, but you and Fred'd have to put Cheering Charms on me at the same time to get me this excited about firewood," responded George.

"Oh, stop it, you two," said Ginny as we started walking after Mr. Weasley. "He's just excited—Mum doesn't let him do Muggle things very much."

* * *

"I don't see what's so great about being a Muggle," muttered Fred as we carried heavy loads of firewood back to the camp. "This is torture."

I glanced around at Mr. Weasley, who was a few yards in front of us humming happily, before saying quietly, "_Wingardium Leviosa_."

The piles of wood rose a few inches off our arms and hovered there.

"Brilliant, Nicci!" said Fred happily as we walked back, no longer burdened by the wood. "Thank Merlin."

When we got back to the camp, Mr. Weasley was panting as we dropped (or I dropped) the firewood to the ground.

"Merlin, that was heavy," he wheezed. Then he straightened up. "Well, Nicci, Ginny—why don't you two go unpack? Take Hermione's things too. Fred, George—you go unpack as well. Don't touch Harry or Ron's things."

At this, Ginny and I snickered.

When we walked into the tent, Ginny groaned. "Ugh, this place looks horrible. Nicci, can you make it look better?"

I stared at her. "If Mr. Weasley comes in here, we'll be in trouble."

"No we won't," said Ginny. "He won't mind, as long as we switch it back."

I shrugged, nodded, and muttered the spell. The tent walls turned a pretty shade of deep blue, and the three beds straightened out (thanks to a little concealed expansion) and became a delicate shade of cream, with dark blue veins running through it. The bathroom door widened and a small closet appeared next to it. A dresser with three huge drawers materialized on the other side of our beds.

Ginny threw herself onto the bed on the right. "I don't know how you do it, Nicci, but this is incredible. What's the point of being worried about sleeping when I've got you around?"

"Thanks, Ginny," I said sarcastically, settling in on the middle bed and putting Hermione's things on the third bed. "Good to know I'm so appreciated."

She left her things on the bed and walked out of the bedroom to the other room in the tent. The main room. The walls were the same color, and the furniture seemed to come from the same set, but there was a pretty oak bookshelf, full of books.

"Well," I said, looking at the bookshelf. "That takes care of Hermione's complaints."

"Still no kitchen," said Ginny absentmindedly. "Not that we'll need it…we're only here one night…"

We walked back outside to see George, Fred, and Mr. Weasley standing around the fire pit, Mr. Weasley attempting repeatedly to light a match.

"Here, Mr. Weasley," I said, taking the matches from him and lighting the fire.

"Thank you, Nicci," Mr. Weasley said happily.

I didn't even notice Harry, Ron, and Hermione were back until George said, "You've been ages."

"Met a few people," said Ron. "Dad got the fire lit yet?"

"No," said Fred. "Nicci did, though."

I waved and came over. "Hi, guys. Find water?"

Harry passed me the kettle, which I promptly handed to George.

"Oi!" he cried. "Since when do I have to carry a kettle?"

"Since you made me carry Hermione's suitcase," I said pleasantly.

We sat around the fire, which would take an hour to cook anything on, Mr. Weasley started telling Harry and Hermione about various Ministry officials. I didn't know many of the officials, but I didn't really care either, so I talked to Ginny about some American witches I'd met last summer.

About forty-five minutes later, while Mr. Weasley was telling Harry about someone named 'Wimple', I pulled out my wand carefully and said, "_Incendio_."

The fire crackled with heat. The entire group jumped, and I stowed my wand away. Hermione and Ginny shot me suspicious glares, but I gave them my nearly-perfected innocent look.

As the fire was ready, it was only about fifteen or twenty minutes until the food was ready too. Hermione was obviously still suspicious, but Ginny didn't seem to care anymore.

"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy's voice. I jumped slightly and looked over at Percy, Bill, and Charlie, who were walking out of the woods. Well, Bill and Charlie were. Percy was sauntering. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"

I grabbed a plate of eggs and sausages and handed it to Charlie, who nodded his thanks and sat down next to Mr. Weasley. This of course, pushed George next to me. As I was eating, George was cracking jokes, and I laughed. We also talked about school and Quidditch; George was surprised when I beat him in Quidditch talk. Can you have a contest in something like that?

But then a very mean voice inside my head ruined the moment. _Nicci, what're you DOING? You can't like him! Didn't you tell yourself that you wouldn't ever fall in love? Didn't you promise that you'd prove Erised wrong?_

I'm not doing anything!

_Nu-uh. You is not proving Erised wrong, girly girl. At this rate, you'll be in love with him by October._

I've gone a thousand years without a boy in my life. I think I can manage it.

_Oh, and that's why you're staring into his great brown eyes, and his thick red hair, and imagining yourself running your hands through it…_

I am not! ...Wait a minute. Why are you thinking these thoughts? About the hair and the eyes…

_Because I'm a part of you, stupid. I'm thinking what you're feeling. And you shouldn't be thinking these things. You swore to Hailey that you'd only fall in love with one man._

Last time I checked, George was 'one man'. Besides, I'm not in love with him!

_One man with a TWIN! And yes you are, my dear. You're going to lose badly to Erised._

I suddenly realized that I was arguing with myself, so I shut up and focused on my surroundings again. There was a man standing there—a man I recognized.

Aha. Ludo Bagman. Boy, he'd gotten fat. And that broken nose didn't look any better. "Aha!" cried Mr. Weasley. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"

"Ahoy there!" called Bagman. He walked over to the tent, panting heavily. "Arthur, old man, what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming…not a hiccough in the arrangements…Not much for me to do!"

I gave him a look before turning back to my sausage. I heard a flutter of movement and saw that Percy was getting up to go shake Bagman's hand. I thought Percy hated Bagman. Ah, well.

Suck-up.

"Ah, yes," said Mr. Weasley, "this is my son, Percy. He's just started at the Ministry—and this is Fred—no, sorry, that's George—_that's _Fred— Bill, Charlie, Ron—my daughter, Ginny—and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger, Nicci Lonsen, and Harry Potter."

Bagman, predictably, gave the usual eye-widening and scar-stare (as I had unconsciously named it) at Harry.

"Everyone," continued Mr. Weasley, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets—"

"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" Bagman asked, beaming brightly. I glared at him. "I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me that Bulgaria will score first…"

I drifted off in his dull and boring speech. I'd never found Ministry people to be particularly interesting. Percy was proof of that.

"Oh, go on, then," said Mr. Weasley. "Let's see…a Galleon on Ireland to win?"

"A Galleon?" I noticed Bagman looked disappointed. "Very well, very well…any other takers?"

"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. Not when they had a girl who could see the future on their side, they weren't. "Molly wouldn't like—"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred, "that Ireland wins—but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh, and we'll throw in a fake wand."

"You don't want to be showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that," interrupted Percy, but he'd have to shove it, because Bagman seemed very taken with it. The wand turned into a rubber chicken and Bagman laughed loudly.

* * *

Walking up to our Quidditch seats, I couldn't help but look around at all the various _things _here. Souvenirs were everywhere; I'd only bought a pair of Omnioculars, which seemed the most practical. The other things, rosettes and dancing hats and figurines, were really just pointless. I'd always like playing Quidditch, but watching it just didn't hold the attraction. It was something else I had in common with Ginny. This, of course, was why I hadn't been the least bit surprised to find a mini Quidditch pitch behind her door. I don't know, but if these are my magical mistakes, I think I'll keep on making them.

I'd heard Bagman and Crouch talking about the Triwizard Tournament again. I remembered the very first tournament; the one I'd participated in. I am officially the youngest person in history to ever win the Triwizard Cup. But who could expect less of the great Alecta Gryffindor?

I had been twelve when I won; my second year in school. But I'd been in Hogwarts my entire life, so I didn't mind entering the contest. Let's see…when I'd played, it'd been called the 'Inter-School Championship' because there'd been four schools involved. Hogwarts, Durmstrang, Beauxbaxtons, and Whittlewhie. But in the very first championship, the Whittlewhie student, Alexander Postus, had tried to convince the Durmstrang student, Anthony Gregon, and Beauxbaxton, Jacque Nox, to help murder me during the third task. Not only did Postus fail to kill me, but he managed to get himself killed in the process. No one is sure exactly how.

So, Whittlewhie was banned from the Inter-School Championship, and over time it became the Triwizard Tournament.

I sat down in a seat in-between Ginny and George—how did he always end up there? I think fate has it in for me. I noticed Harry, two seats down from me, was talking to a house-elf.

"What d'you think?" I asked Ginny.

"It's incredible," she answered. "Can you imagine what it'd be like to play here?"

"Effing amazing," I said.

Ginny elbowed me lightly. "I think not having parents has taken a toll on your swearing."

I shrugged. "Eh."

"Wild!"cried Ron loudly, forcing me to look over at him on the other side of Ginny. He was playing with the pair of Omnioculars Harry had bought him. "I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again…and again…and again…"

I rolled my eyes and Ginny giggled.

"'A display from the team mascots will precede the match'," read Hermione from the other side of Harry.

"Oh, that's always worth watching," said Mr. Weasley from Fred's other side. Argh! Why was I near nobody talking? "National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show. I wonder what they'll bring…"

"I know," I said in my sing-song voice.

"Do you?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" I responded cheerily.

"What does that mean?" asked Ginny.

"You'll have to wait and see," I told her.

Ginny frowned but said nothing.

As more and more ministry wizards filled the box, the more uncomfortable I felt. I hated being around them; if not for the aging issue, I'd probably still be in—where had I been? Egypt? No—that was a year ago. Austria? Nope. Two years ago.

That's right. I'd been in Canada. I've always wanted to go to New York (you know, in America), but I'd never actually gone. I mean, they were really recent. What, only four-hundred years old?

"Oh no," I heard Ginny say next to me. I turned to look at Harry—nothing was wrong. Ron or Hermione? No.

Oh. Lucius Malfoy. Great.

"Ah, Fudge," said Malfoy Sr. silkily. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge. "And allow me to introduce you to—"

I stood up. "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," I said mockingly.

"Lonsen," sneered Malfoy Sr. "Back for another assassination attempt?"

By now, everyone was watching us.

"Oh, please, Malfoy," I snapped. "If you didn't have to be alive, you'd have died three years ago." See, it was because—oh, screw it. My thought process can't be explained.

"Oh, really?" said Malfoy. "If you're good enough to kill me, why did you go to Azkaban?"

"If you're good enough to have high security at Azkaban, why was a ten-year-old able to escape without a wand?"

"Oh, come now," blustered Fudge. "Now really isn't the time—"

"Actually, _Minister_, I think it's the perfect time," I said, shutting him up. "Do you have anything to say to me, Malfoy? Because if you do, I'd be happy to throw you off the railing."

Malfoy shot me a contemptuous glare. "Like you would."

"Well, _I_ heard that you gave a donation to St. Mungo's," I said lightly. "A very generous one. So I'd say that maybe a week of damage would cover it, wouldn't you?"

Fudge paled. "No…you wouldn't…you—"

"I have already proven that I _would_ do it, Fudge," I snapped. "In fact, I've proven that I'm not afraid of damaging the Ministry. So I would think wisely, both of you. And learn that when your opponent has not only the advantage, but the entire game, that you should _shut your mouths_."

Fudge and Malfoy both looked slightly shocked. I sat down again and turned away from them.

* * *

**A/N:** I love writing these argument scenes! They're so much fun! Oh, by the way, I'm going to explain this now, so no one asks about it. I'm not putting the Quidditch game in because it has nothing to do with Nicci. You want to read about the match, read the book. I'll start up the next chapter when they're walking away from the game.

Nicci has a bit of a wide-ranging attitude. She can be nice, generous, funny, witty, and yet be sarcastic, cruel, mocking, and just mean. She just really hates Fudge and she despises the Malfoys (which will be disclosed later). But I like that about her and I hope you do too.

Disclaimer: I don't know, but this seems really pointless to write. I mean, if I was JK Rowling, wouldn't Nicci be in either the original books or at least on her website? Well, maybe not, but still. Not JK Rowling. Don't own the plot. Or the magic.

I am going to be sure to thank you all for all the reviews every chapter. Well, maybe not every chapter. Every other chapter. Crap, I thanked you last chapter, didn't I? Oh, never mind, I'm making up for the past twelve chapters when I didn't. Back to the point, thanks for all the awesome reviews.


	17. Chapter 16: Into the Woods

**Chapter 16: Into the Woods**

**A/N: **I re-wrote this Harry part coming up about three times before I decided I suck at Harry first-person. So from now on, his narrative is going to be third-person. This chapter is kind of important to Nicci's background, so read up, people. And yes, it's kind of depressing, and yes, I feel really mean writing this, because it's all true—just a thousand years off. Well, enjoy!

Actually, don't enjoy it, because it's kind of sad. Enjoy the writing, just don't enjoy the facts.

**Alecta:**

I first realized something was wrong about fifteen minutes before we all went to bed. Something—something was most definitely wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I was thinking about it sleepily when all of a sudden, I felt something hot spill all over me. I shrieked.

"Huh?" asked Ron.

I looked over at Ginny; she's fallen asleep and knocked over her hot chocolate on me. She jerked awake. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's fine," I gasped out. "I wasn't thinking." I cleaned off my clothes.

"All right, you lot," said Mr. Weasley. "Time for bed."

I nodded absentmindedly and put my cup of hot chocolate in the sink. What was the matter? I'd never been wrong about these things before.

"Goodnight, Harry, Ron," said Hermione.

"'Night Dad. See you guys tomorrow," said Ginny.

I waved and put my fingers on my temples. "Something's bothering me," I said. "I can't—I don't know—good night, everyone."

I walked out the door without looking back.

* * *

**Harry:**

"What's with Nicci?" asked Ron as the girls left.

"I don't know," said Mr. Weasley with a puzzled expression. "She's got keen senses—she's never wrong—but I don't know what could be bothering her."

"She's different," commented Charlie. "I've never met anyone like her."

"She's had a very different past," said Mr. Weasley. "We're lucky to have her on our side in this time—if she'd been on You-Know-Who's side during the first war, we might not have survived."

"Why do you say that, Dad?" asked George as we got ready for bed.

"Nicci's the ultimate weapon," said Mr. Weasley sadly. "She's very powerful—Azkaban and traveling have molded her into a strong girl with no weakness."

"What d'you mean, no weakness?"

"Well—Nicci's had the Cruciatus Curse and the Imperius Curse used on her so many times they don't even affect her anymore," said Mr. Weasley. "Imagine that—to be so used to pain it doesn't even hurt. She doesn't show fear, she's got the power to see the future, and she's got a mind so capable that at the age of ten, she was able to break into the Ministry and nearly kill Lucius Malfoy."

"Did you hear what she said, Dad?" said Fred. "To Malfoy? She said that if he hadn't needed him to be alive, he'd have died three years ago. Do you really think she would have?"

"I don't doubt it for a second," said Mr. Weasley seriously. "Unlike anyone else her age, she isn't afraid of killing. She—she's done it twice before."

"Twice?" asked Ron, shocked. "Ginny said only once. When some madman killed her friends."

"No, there was one other time," said Mr. Weasley. "She hates talking about it—it was horrible. Of course," he added sternly, "this was told in complete confidence. There will be no repeating of this to anyone."

Harry and the others nodded.

"When Nicci was six—"

"_Six_?"

"Let me finish," said Mr. Weasley. "When she was six, she was put under the Imperius Curse—and forced to kill someone. The Killing Curse worked for her at such a young age—of course, she's very powerful."

Harry stared at him. "But—but this was when her parents were around!"

"Dumbledore told us it was her own uncle," said Mr. Weasley, shaking his head. "Could you imagine?"

"No," said Bill, looking shaken. "And she's still so normal!"

"I know," said Mr. Weasley. "She's very good at hiding her own pain. She's tried to fix her mistakes—the Imperius Curse hasn't worked on her since that day. But Nicci—she's gone through a lot."

"No kidding," muttered George.

They got into bed quietly, thinking. Harry couldn't believe it; if Mr. Weasley hadn't told him, he'd never had guessed at Nicci's past. He suddenly felt a bit ashamed—he hadn't gone through anything half as bad as her and yet he wasn't nearly as good as her.

* * *

**Alecta:**

I lay in bed for hours, listening to the singing of the Irish fans, unable to shake off the feeling that something was wrong. Something that I couldn't explain. Something—

The singing stopped. I sat up in bed, looked at Ginny and Hermione, who were both still asleep, and listened carefully. Off in the distance, I heard a faint scream.

A scream?

I pulled on a pair of jeans and a jumper and ran outside. Another scream. Something was most definitely wrong. Walking back into the tent, I decided to act.

The screams were getting louder.

I ran over to Hermione and Ginny and shook them awake.

"Nicci—Wha?"

"Get up," I hissed frantically.

"'S matter?" asked Ginny groggily.

"Get up," I said more loudly. "We've got to go—something's wrong—"

As I said the words, the screams grew louder and I started to hear people running. Hermione's eyes widened and she jumped out of bed. "Ginny—come on," she said.

"Get her—I'm going to get Mr. Weasley," I said, running outside yet again. I went inside the boy's tent and found them all still asleep. "Mr. Weasley!" I said loudly. "Wake up—something's definitely wrong! Get up!"

I pushed him off the bed. "What?"

"Mr. Weasley! Come on, this is urgent! Let's go!"

He listened for a second and heard the noises. "Are Ginny and Hermione—?"

"They're up," I said. I walked over and shook Percy, Bill, and Charlie.

"You go and make sure they're okay," said Mr. Weasley. "Wand out, Nicci. I've got them."

I nodded, went back to the girl's tent, and found Ginny and Hermione waiting for me inside the door. "Do you have your wands?" I asked.

"Yeah, but we can't use them," said Hermione.

"If whatever's scaring these people tries to come after you, you're perfectly within your rights to use your wand," I said quickly. "Come on."

We ran outside, me in my jeans and Hermione and Ginny wearing their nightdresses. Mr. Weasley grabbed them by their shoulders. Suddenly, I looked up and saw Mr. Roberts floating in the air. What? And there were three others—his wife and children? Oh, that is sick.

I watched the man with the wand flip the woman over so her dress fell forward. A crowd below them was laughing maniacally.

Suddenly, I was furious. Beyond furious, I was scary mad. I raised my wand at one of the laughing Death Eaters, I realized suddenly, and screamed, "_Crucio_!"

He fell, screaming and twitching. The others looked around for the source. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all stared at me. "You—you—"

"_Crucio_!" I yelled at the crowd again. I looked over at them. "Yes?"

"Nothing," said Hermione weakly.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" shouted Mr. Weasley. "You lot—get into the woods and _stick together_. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out. Nicci!" he shouted as I started to go with them. "Stay with them! They need someone who can use a wand!"

"Great," I muttered as we headed off into the woods. I followed Fred, George, and Ginny.

"Nicci!" cried George and he grabbed my arm.

"Yeah, I'm here," I said. "Where're Harry, Ron, and Hermione?"

"I don't know," said Fred. "They're not with you?"

We stopped a good distance from the edge.

"No," I said.

"Oh, I hope they're all right," fretted Ginny.

"Of course they'll be all right," I said.

Ginny looked incredibly relieved by this. I realized why—she knew that I'd seen them alive. Oh, that's right—I had.

Sometimes, I amaze myself with my own stupidity.

"Well, what do we do?" asked George.

"We do what your dad said," I responded in a calm voice. "We stay hidden until your dad gets us."

George nodded, and I suddenly realized he hadn't let go of me.

"We've got to get out of here!" shrieked someone behind me, and all of a sudden I was torn apart from George as a group of people stampeded past.

"Nicci!" cried Ginny, but I couldn't see; I was running the wrong way, but I couldn't turn around. I dodged off the path and made my way into the trees.

After about a minute and a half, I decided I was getting nowhere. I _could_ Apparate—but I hadn't bothered to get a license yet and I didn't want to Splinch myself on accident.

Then I heard a voice. "Oh, I can't believe this. Where have the others got to?"

"Hermione?" I called out.

There was a pause. "Nicci?"

"Hermione!" I followed her voice and found myself right in front of Ron, Harry, and Hermione. "Oh, thank God you guys are all right," I said.

"Where're George, Ginny, and Fred?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know…we got separated a few minutes back…"

"Fred and George can't have gone that far," said Ron, pushing ahead. We followed him, but Harry dug into his pockets and said, "Ah, no, I don't believe it…I've lost my wand!"

"You're _kidding_," I said, staring at him. Hermione, Ron, I raised our wands so he could look around. I muttered, "_Accio Wand_."

Nothing. Damn it.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting amongst the trees in the heart of the woods. Bagman had passed through here earlier; he'd obviously lost a bet—that must be why he was so pale.

"I hope the others are okay," said Hermione suddenly.

"They're fine," I said firmly.

"Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy," said Harry. "He's always said he'd like to get something on him."

I sighed. "He won't."

"What about those poor Muggles?" asked Hermione nervously. "What if they can't get them down?"

"They will," said Ron comfortingly. "They'll find a way."

"Mad, though, to do something like that when the whole Ministry of Magic's out here tonight," cried Hermione. "I mean, how do they expect to get away with it? Do you think they've been drinking or are they just—"

I heard it as she stopped. The sound of footsteps—staggering footsteps. Maybe a drunk?

"Hello?" called Harry. When no one answered, he stood up and looked around the trees. "Who's there?"

There was still no answer. Then suddenly, a voice shouted calmly, "_MORSMORDRE_!"

I didn't even need to look up at the sky to know that the skull and the snake were there. The horrible grisly sign of Voldemort. But how? And who?

"Oh no," I moaned, pulling Harry and Hermione up. "Not here—not now—"

"What the—?" cried Ron, also jumping to his feet.

Suddenly, screams pierced the air. Harry obviously didn't know what was going on or what the sign was, because he said, "Who's there?"

"Harry, come on, _move_," I cried.

"What's the matter?" he asked, looking at Hermione's pale white face.

"It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" Hermione moaned, pulling Harry and Ron closer. I grabbed Harry's other side and pulled out my wand. "You-Know-Who's sign!"

"_Voldemort's_—"

"Harry, come _on_!"

We ran across the clearing, but after only a few steps, we stopped; the sound of Apparating wizards filled my ears.

"DUCK!" Harry yelled as I cried, "_Protego_!"

"_STUPEFY_!" roared twenty-six voices. Their Stunning spells bounced off my shield and as I watched, thirteen wizards fell to the ground.

"Stop!" shouted Mr. Weasley's voice. "STOP! _That's my son_!"

"Mr. Weasley," I said, lowering my shield and walking over to him, "I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"

He strode to me and looked at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Harry—Ron—Hermione—are you all right?"

"Peachy," I muttered sarcastically.

"Out of the way, Arthur," said Crouch's voice. I rolled my eyes; this would not be fun.

Harry stood up next to me. Hermione and Ron were still on the ground looking terrified. I raised my wand slightly.

"Which one of you did it?" he snapped menacingly. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

"We didn't do that!" said Harry.

"We didn't do anything!" said Ron, rubbing his elbow. "What did you want to attack us for?"

"Do not lie, sir!" shouted Crouch, his wand pointed at Ron. I was about five seconds away from Disarming him. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Barty, they're kids," whispered a witch in a woolen nightdress (I think her name was Mable), "Barty, they'd never be able to…"

"Where did they Mark come from, you four?" asked Mr. Weasley quickly—probably before Crouch could say anything about me.

"Over there," said Hermione, pointing at where we'd heard the voice. "There was someone behind the trees…they shouted words—an incantation—"

"Oh, stood over there, did they?" said Crouch mockingly. I decided Crouch was completely mad. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how the Mark is summoned, missy—"

"That's how all spells are done, you idiot," I snapped at him.

The other witches and wizards in the group started talking and spreading out, trying to find the source of the Mark. While Harry, Ron, and Hermione were watching the Ministry wizards, Mr. Weasley grabbed my arm. "Nicci, I want to go and find Fred, George, and Ginny. I don't care what you have to do, just make sure they're all right. Then I want to you use magic to turn over the forest and find the person who conjured the Dark Mark—don't give me that look, I know you can do it. See if you can find traces of Disapparition leading to someone."

I gave him a glare. When that didn't work, I considered, nodded my head, and slipped off into the dark without anyone else noticing.

* * *

"Fred? Ginny! George!" I'd been calling for a minute or two and I still hadn't found them. _C'mon, Nicci, there's got to be something you know. A thousand years, and you can't find three people in a wood? _

"Find Me," I whispered. My wand spun around in a circle, waiting for a name. I smiled; I'd nearly forgotten this little spell. "George Weasley."

My wand slowed and fixed on my right. I walked that way and the wand went straight. I walked for a minute before I heard voices. "Fred, do you think Dad'll come for us?"

_Yes!_

"Of course he'll come, Ginny," said Fred's voice.

"I can't believe we lost Nicci," said George angrily. "She was right there…"

"And Harry, Ron, and Hermione," said Ginny. "I hope they're all right."

I stepped forward again. "_Lumos_."

"Who's there?" called out George.

I didn't answer.

"Probably just imagining," George muttered.

"I thought I heard it too," said Ginny comfortingly.

I leaned against a tree just outside the small ring of light. "You know, you should all really have your wands out," I said lightly.

Fred, Ginny, and George whirled around. "Nicci!"

Ginny and Fred started to walk towards me, but George hung back. "How old were you when you killed for the first time?" he asked, his wand pointed at me.

I stared at him. So Mr. Weasley told them, did he?

Well, they'd have found out anyway, I told myself. It's better this way. "Six," I told him, adopting my light tone again. It was a façade, of course, but I'd gotten good at it over the years.

George lowered his wand. Ginny looked from him, to me, then said, "What?"

"All right," I said quickly, "we've got to get out of here. Do you know where you are?"

All three shook their heads.

I sighed. "Okay then. All three of you, grab my arm." They did as I said, shooting me questioning glances. _Weasley Tent, Quidditch World Cup_," I thought quickly.

We fell face forward in front of our tent. "Argh," I muttered to myself. Then I straightened up and said, "IS everyone alright? Any Splinching?"

They stared at me, looked themselves over, then shook their heads. "Did you—did you just Side-Along Apparate all three of us?" asked Fred, standing up.

"Yeah," I said, yawning. "Just don't tell your dad, because I'm not technically licensed. But everyone's fine…see, the only reason I took all three of you was because I didn't feel like trying to find our way out."

I staggered into the boy's tent with Fred, George, and Ginny following close behind. I dropped in a chair, and didn't look up until Fred said, "Ow! George, look at this, I must've gotten this from that rock."

"Come here," I said tiredly. I raised my wand and went over him with my wand; where there were bruises and cuts, they faded. "Ginny, George, let me see you too," I said.

They walked over and I repeated the same process. "You're all fine now," I said, getting up. I had a huge headache—probably from all the magic I'd done. Pull it together, Lonsen.

One second. Since when had I called myself Lonsen? I mean, sure it was my "name", but I'd always said 'Gryffindor'. Hm…I'd have to work on that.

"You're really good at magic, Nicci," commented Bill from a corner of the room. I spun around; I hadn't even seen him there.

"Oh. Hi," I muttered. "How long have you been there?"

"Ten minutes or so," he said, grinning. "Perce and Charlie should be back soon."

I stood up. "Well, good. Watch these three—I'll be back in a minute."

"Where are you going?" he asked.

I paused and looked at him. "I've got homework," I finally said.

Walking outside, I looked at the fires waiting to be put out. "_Augamenti_," I muttered, watching water pour over the fire and dousing it. "That's quite a bit better…I'd almost stay here…"

I muttered a few spells—Tracking Spells, Disapparation Lists, Priori Incantatem—nothing. The only records of anyone Apparating or Disapparating here were hours and hours ago, except when the Ministry wizards tried to stun Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I. Which meant it whoever it'd been was still in the woods. A Death Eater, maybe?

No, that wouldn't work. Death Eaters were _afraid _of Voldemort, they wouldn't portray his symbol. Not now. Lestranges are in Azkaban—Wormtail?—no, not possible. He'd be too afraid of getting caught by the Death Eaters. What about Crouch's son? I knew he had been a Death Eater—

No, Sirius said he was dead. But was he? I thought—but no, this was ridiculous. So why did I have the strongest feeling that there was more to this than met the eye.

C'mon, Nicci, dig deeper—

"Dad, what's going on?" I heard Charlie call. "Fred, George, Ginny, and Nicci got back okay, but the others—"

"I've got them here," said Mr. Weasley. The four of them walked into the tent and I followed them, still thinking. Mr. Weasley turned around and asked me, "Anything?"

I threw a piece of parchment at him. "Nothing. Not a bloody thing. The only people who Apparated in the past five hours there were the Ministry wizards. Twenty-six of you at the same time. I also ran through a search—Death Eaters and Crouch not included, everyone who was in those woods in the past hour and a half was at the Quidditch Pitch for the game tonight."

"This is thorough," Bill muttered, his eyes running across the parchment. "Do you know who conjured the Mark?"

"I don't know who did it, but I know it was Harry's wand," I said, dropping into a chair. "Which means the person who conjured it doesn't have a wand."

"Or could be using another to throw us off the trail," said Percy snootily.

I glared at him. "No, Mr. Know-It-All," I snapped. "I checked every wand in that clearing from about five minutes before the Mark was cast to about twenty minutes after. Every owner—and I mean _every_ owner—was either a Ministry wizard or one of us four. Except"—I checked the parchment—"two wands of people I've never heard of. They left about thirty seconds later and never reappeared. That's it."

Mr. Weasley took the list of wands. "Merlin, Nicci, this has every last detail. How long ago did you leave?"

"About a minute and a half ago," said Bill dryly.

I grinned. "So, Mr. Weasley," I asked, turning in my seat, "did you find anything else after I left?"

"We found Barty Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand," said Mr. Weasley sharply.

"_What_?" asked Bill, Charlie, and Percy together.

"They don't seriously think—" I began, but Percy cut me off.

"_Mr. Crouch's elf_?" he cried.

"As I was saying," I snarled at Percy, "they don't seriously think she did anything, do they?"

Mr. Weasley, Harry, Ron, and Hermione started to explain the story to me. When they finished, I looked at them open-mouthed. Percy looked like a bullfrog.

"Well, Mr. Crouch was quite right to get rid of an elf like that!" he said loudly. I had a feeling he'd been waiting to say that halfway through the story. "Running away when he'd expressly told her not to…embarrassing him in front of the entire Ministry…how would that have looked, if she'd been brought up in front of the Department for Regulation and Control for—"

"Percy, for once in your life, shut your mouth!" I shouted at him. Sparks of light were dancing off my fingertips. "At least now I have something to work with—My God, it's his own fault!"

Percy sputtered. "And I ask you, how is this Mr. Crouch's fault?"

"Because he's an _idiot_!" I burst out. "You think you know so much about the Ministry, but you don't! I've seen the worst parts of your shiny, clean, Ministry…I could tell you about Crouch—and don't even get me started on Bagman—"

"What do you know?" Percy yelled at me.

"Last time I checked, _I_ was the one who could see the future," I spat in a cool voice. "And if I remember correctly, _I_ was the ten-year-old they threw in Azkaban."

"That has nothing to do with Crouch's elf," said Percy, but he sounded slightly defeated. "Someone like Mr. Crouch—he's a high-ranking official—he can't afford to have a house-elf running amok with a wand! And for your information, Nicci, the Ministry has changed."

Here Hermione took up the argument. "She didn't run amok with a wand, Percy! She just picked it up off the ground!"

"And if Fudge is still Minister, nothing has changed," I added quietly.

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" interrupted Ron. "It wasn't hurting anybody—why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," said Hermione. "I read about it in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_."

"And it hasn't been seen in thirteen years," said Mr. Weasley. "Of course people panicked…it was like seeing You-Know-Who back again."

"Not to mention that it's a sign of death," I continued tiredly. "Voldemort and his followers set the Dark Mark over places where they'd murdered. It's a symbol of pure terror—just like the name Voldemort. Everyone panicked, of course—you see, thanks to you, Harry, we've had thirteen years of shaky peace. But that symbol—"

"Imagine coming home and seeing that mark over your house. Knowing what would be inside…," said Mr. Weasley. "Everyone's worst fear…the very worst…But, of course, you're too young to know…"

I knew. I knew exactly what it was like. I'd seen it happen to Lily and James's house—I'd seen it happen to the Prewett's house—It was too painful to remember sometimes.

My greatest fear in life had always been that I would grow too close to someone. Watching another person torn from me by my own weakness—I'd never been strong enough. I'd lost what mattered to me most; my family. My friends. And I was terrified it would happen again.

"Death Eaters?" I heard Harry ask. "What are Death Eaters? Nicci said something about them too—"

"It's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves," started Bill. Not wanting to hear any more, I stood up and rubbed across my eyes with one hand.

"I'll see you in the morning," I said, walking over to the exit.

* * *

**Harry:**

"What's wrong now?" asked Bill as Nicci left the tent.

"I imagine she's exhausted," said Mr. Weasley. "She did an incredible amount of magic today—you, Charlie, and Percy combined couldn't have done it."

"Why does it look like he's never paying attention?" asked Ginny suddenly.

"Probably because she isn't," said Mr. Weasley. "She's always thinking…why do you think she get through everything? She has to mix-and-match everything to try and figure out what's going on. It's no easy feat. And with Nicci," he looked over to the tent entrance, "you know she's always five steps ahead of you."

* * *

**A/N:** Yay! Angst! Actually, it's really angsty. Oh well. I'm going to give up on the arguing side of Nicci for now.

Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter. I think I'm going to stop doing this after a while.


	18. Chapter 17: Back To Hogwarts

**Chapter 17: Back to Hogwarts**

**Alecta:**

"C'mon, Nicci." Someone was shaking me.

"What?" I asked grouchily.

"You've got to fix the tent before Dad packs it up," said Ginny's voice.

I sat up in bed. "And I—argh."

Hermione, who was sitting on the bed next to me, grinned. "You're not much of a morning person, are you?"

"Go away," I mumbled, getting out of bed. Waving my wand, I packed up my clothes. "_Finite Incantartum._"

The tent returned to normal and I flopped down on one of the bunk beds.

"Why do you wear pants to bed instead of a nightdress?" asked Ginny from the bathroom. I looked down—I'd always worn pajama pants for girls instead of a nightdress; for the record, it was harder to fight a battle in a dress.

"I got them in Canada," I said. "I've always been more comfortable in shorts than dresses, so…there you are."

I pulled on yet another pair of jeans. "C'mon, you two, we've got to find your dad."

After we'd finished packing, we found the boys waiting outside. Mr. Weasley put away our tent quickly and we walked out of the campsite.

"It's hard to believe that this is the same campsite," said Ginny quietly.

"No kidding," I mumbled.

When we got back to Ottery St. Catchpole, we found Mrs. Weasley waiting for us in the front yard.

"Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness!"

Mrs. Weasley came running down the pathway, still wearing her slippers. She looked terrified; I found the source immediately—there was a _Daily Prophet_ rolled up in her hand.

"Arthur—I've been so worried—_so worried_—" She hugged him tightly. "You're all right…you're alive...oh, _boys_…"

She had released Mr. Weasley and grabbed at the twins—she pulled them into a hug and made them bump heads; I couldn't breathe, I was laughing so hard. Silently, of course.

"_Ouch_! Mum—you're strangling us—"

"I shouted at you before you left!" cried Mrs. Weasley. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who got you, and the last thing I said to you was that you didn't get enough O.! Oh, Fred…George…"

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," said Mr. Weasley, prying her off them. He began leading her up to the Burrow and I fell in step with Fred and George.

"Mum's boys," I teased them.

"Shut up, Nicci," said Fred, rubbing his head where he'd collided with George.

"Didn't your parents ever do that?" asked George crossly. His eyes widened and he started hitting himself in the head. "Stupid…stupid…stupid…"

"No," I said, laughing. "My parents weren't very "lovey"." I made air quotations as I spoke. "They more expected me to take care of myself."

George gave me an apologetic grin.

When we were in the kitchen, I asked Mrs. Weasley if she had anything for a headache. She pointed to a cabinet and I went over and took some potion. When I came back, Percy was saying, "As if it wasn't _specifically_ stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans—"

"Do us a favor, Perce," said Bill, "and shut up."

I decided that I had been right in liking Bill.

Just then, Thaniel came flying through an open window as an owl and landed on the table. "Good to see you, boy," I said, scratching his head. "I thought you were in Romania?"

He shrugged as if to say, 'Well, I'm back now.' I raised my eyebrows. "Go find Hailey and Ben, will you?"

He nodded dropped the letter. Charlie, Bill, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stared at him. Realizing I'd never introduced them, I said, "This is Thaniel."

There were burn marks on the envelope. "Thaniel," I snapped. Thaniel, who'd been trying to fly out, landed back on the table and hung his head. "You just can't resist picking a fight, can you? What did I say about fighting dragons? Didn't I tell you that you have an unfair advantage over them?"

Thaniel hung his head even more. Charlie stared at Thaniel, at me, then back at Thaniel. "Did you just say that your owl fights dragons?"

"Oh, he's not an owl," I explained impatiently. "He's a shape-shifter—a shape-shifter who is _not allowed to go to Romania for another year_."

Thaniel turned into a dog and whined. "Turn into whatever dog you want," I said. "I'm not dealing with this right now."

He shifted back into an owl and flew out the window.

"Go on," I said politely, opening the letter. Mr. Weasley started up a conversation about a reporter named Rita Skeeter and an article in the _Daily Prophet_.

* * *

Later that night, I was up in Ginny's room on a couch, when Hermione came in and plopped down on her bed. Grabbing one of her many books, she started to flick through the pages until I said, "Hermione, I think we should tell Ginny."

"Tell Ginny what?" she asked.

"About Sirius," I said. "I've been debating whether or not to tell her for a while now."

She sat up and put her book down. "You know, Nicci," she exclaimed, "I think we should."

I grinned and tossed the letter I'd gotten earlier at her. I'd developed a habit of throwing information at people. Literally.

Haha!

Joking, joking.

"What's this?" asked Hermione.

"Letter from Sirius," I told her.

"_Dear Nicci_," Hermione read aloud. "_Hope you're well. I heard about the Quidditch World Cup. Are you excited? Of course, by the time you read this, you'll probably already have gone. For the record, I'm supporting Ireland…_Wonder what he'll say now that he's heard what happened?..._I heard you and Harry were staying at the Weasleys. Great people, them. I saw they finally had a daughter—when I last saw them before Lily and James died, Mrs. Weasley was still pregnant. Ginny, right? I saw her in that newspaper clipping—now that Harry knows I'm innocent, I've been looking at the picture in more detail. Has Harry asked her out yet? She's very pretty._" Hermione laughed. "Is this an actual letter from Sirius?"

I nodded. "That's what I got from Thaniel earlier."

"_I have a feeling they'll be a great match…I mean, how could they not? Harry'll be carrying on the Potter tradition of marrying red-heads. Anyway, write me soon. Sirius._" Hermione looked up at me. "Did Sirius just advise Harry to ask Ginny out?"

"I think so," I laughed. "But we won't tell them that detail _quite_ yet. Let's just deal with Sirius, all right?"

"Hermione! Nicci!" Ginny cried.

We swung around to see Ginny racing into the room and sitting on her bed excitedly. "What?" I asked.

"Guess what?"

"If I want to guess, I'll tell you," I said.

Ginny gave me a glare. "George has a crush on someone!"

I stared at her. "…What?"

"Yeah, I heard him and Fred talking about it," she said happily. "Didn't catch a name though…wonder who it is…"

"Probably Angelina," said Hermione, picking up her book again. "Goodness knows she's liked him since their fourth year."

Disappointment flooded through me, but I couldn't for the life of me explain why. Instead of thinking about it, I asked Hermione, "How do you know that?"

"Angelina told me."

Ginny looked at Hermione in disbelief. "Since when have you talked to Angelina Johnson?"

"We were sitting in the common room together—we were both doing homework—and we just started talking. I know her, of course, since Harry's on the Quidditch team, and I think she told me because I'm Ron's friend, who is George's younger brother."

"We were all perfectly aware that Ron is George's younger brother," I said grumpily. Why was I in such a bad mood?

"Why are you in such a bad mood?" asked Hermione. I raised my eyebrows. It appears great minds really do think alike.

"I dunno," I muttered.

There was silence for a minute or so before Hermione said, "Nicci, isn't there something you wanted to _tell Ginny_?"

"Oh! Oh, right," I said, glad for the change in subject. "Ginny, you remember Sirius Black, right?"

"The mass-murderer?" she asked in confusion.

"Well, yes. But no. You see, Sirius never killed anyone…" And Hermione and I launched into the explanation of what happened with Sirius.

"…See, it was Peter Pettigrew who betrayed Harry's parents…"

"…And Lupin, he was protecting…"

"…We thought you should know…"

When we finished, Ginny stared at us before starting to laugh.

"What's so funny?" I asked, slightly offended.

"You two are just _so confusing_…" She paused here to take a deep breath. "So let me get this straight. Sirius Black is innocent of all charges, didn't betray Harry's parents, and the real traitor was one of James Potter's other friends named Peter Pettigrew. And both Sirius and Pettigrew are Animagi, who can turn into a dog and a rat respectively."

"Exactly," I said triumphantly.

Ginny shook her head. "I think you're both nutters."

"You don't believe us?" I asked, offended.

"Oh, I believe you," she said. "I just think you're completely crazy."

* * *

The day before Hogwarts started, Ginny, Hermione, and I were packing up when Mrs. Weasley came in with a bunch of clean laundry. "Here, Ginny," she said, handing her something pale green.

"What's this?" asked Ginny, holding up a dress. It was pale green with an orange bow around the middle and trimming the edges.

"Dress robes," said Mrs. Weasley, handing Hermione something blue and giving me some regular robes.

"What do we need dress robes for?" asked Hermione.

"It's on your school list," said Mrs. Weasley. She left the room again and Ginny dropped on the bed.

"How am I supposed to wear this in public?" groaned Ginny. Then she looked around. "Nicci, where're yours?"

"I told her I'd get one in Hogsmeade," I said.

"Oh! By the way, Mum told me to give this to you," said Ginny, handing me a slip of paper. "Permission to go to Hogsmeade. We're your guardians now, so…"

I grinned and put in my bag.

"Morning," I said tiredly, yawning as I walked into the kitchen. Shaking my hair off my face, I slumped down on the table.

"Who _is_ Mad-Eye Moody?" asked Harry. I looked up sharply. What did Moody have to do with anything?

"He's retired, used to work in the Ministry," said Charlie. "I met him once when Dad me to work with him. He was an Auror…one of the the best—a Dark wizard catcher," he added, looking at Harry.

"I know Moody," I said without thinking.

Charlie stared at me. "From where?"

The Order of the Phoenix. "Never mind," I mumbled.

"Anyway, half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself a load of enemies though…mainly the families of people he caught…and I heard he's getting paranoid in his old age. Sees Dark wizards everywhere."

Ginny and Hermione came down the stairs. "Morning," yawned Ginny, heading for the seat next to me.

"Good morning," said Mrs. Weasley, bustling out of the kitchen and passing around breakfast.

Mrs. Weasley had hired Muggle taxis to take us to King's Cross which turned out to a complete fiasco. As they were lugging the seven trunks to the cars, Fred's burst open and let loose a firework. I shrieked and had to turn away to avoid getting hit.

When the trunks were settled and the owls had been taken care of, we got it. I almost went to sit with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but then I saw the look in Crookshank's eye and hurriedly went to sit with Ginny, Fred, and George. The ride turned out to be very enjoyable, as Fred and George kept on cracking jokes and we all played several rounds of Exploding Snap.

By the time we reached King's Cross, I was the only one who hadn't had anything burned off. The rain was horrible as we carried our luggage across the station, and I was all too relieved to finally pass through the barrier.

I followed Harry, Ron, and Hermione to a compartment and put my trunk away. I never carried an owl cage with me; it seemed pointless. I knew Thaniel would come back, and he never needed a home. Just like me. The thought made me sad.

Ginny bounded out of train right after me and Charlie hugged her good-bye. "I might be seeing you all sooner than you think."

"Why?" asked Fred.

"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't mention it to Percy—and Nicci," I looked up, "don't tell them anything. I know you know."

I smiled innocently. "Know what?"

He reached over and ruffled my hair. "That's my girl."

"I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill wistfully.

"_Why_?" asked George.

"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill. "I might even get some time off and watch a bit of it…"

"A bit of _what_?" asked Ron in frustration.

The train whistle blew.

"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as we got onto the train.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.

"Oh my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you all to Christmas, but…well, I expect you'll want to stay at Hogwarts, what with…one thing and another."

"That is border-line cruelty," I said, laughing.

"Mum! What d'you _four_"—here Ron shot me a dirty look—"know that we don't?"

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley. "It's going to be very exciting—mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules—"

"What rules?" asked the four boys.

"I'm sure Dumbledore will tell you…Now behave, won't you? _Won't_ you, Fred? And you, George?"

The train started to move and I ducked into the corridor with Ginny.

"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" yelled Fred one last time. I smiled knowingly.

When Harry, Ron, Hermione and I had made it back into the compartment, Ron immediately turned to me and said, "What's happening at Hogwarts?"

"I have no idea," I lied.

"Nicci, we know you're lying," said Hermione. "What's going on?"

"Sorry," I said cheerfully. "You're just going to have to wait. Patience is a virtue, you know."

"Oh, please! When have you ever been patient?"

"I said it was a virtue," I told him. "I never said I had it."

"You're a real—"

But I never found what I was because Hermione said, "Shh!" all of a sudden. Draco Malfoy's cold, drawling voice floated through the door.

"…Father actually wanted me to go to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. You know his opinion of Dumbledore—the man's such a Mudblood-lover—and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. Of course, Father also wanted to get me away from that absolute horror—Lonsen. He thinks she might try to hurt me—I fully agree, she's completely out of control. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible approach than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually _learn _them, not the defense rubbish we do…"

Hermione got up and closed the door silently.

"So he thinks Durmstrang would suit him better, does he?" she snarled. "I wish he _had_ gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" asked Harry.

"Yes," said Hermione angrily. "And it's got a horrible reputation. According to _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_, it puts a lot of emphasis on Dark Arts."

When we reached Hogwarts, I couldn't wait to leave the train. The larger the space, the farther I could make myself from Malfoy. I hated him so much it almost hurt.

Instead of going by the carriages, I Apparated into the castle. Dumbledore looked up from his book and said good-naturedly, "I thought it was impossible to Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts."

"Of course it's not," I told him, shocked. "As long as you can find the loopholes."

"The loopholes?" asked Dumbledore.

"I spent half a year finding all the loopholes in Hogwarts magic with Hailey and Ben once," I told him. "Let's see—it was the summer before my second year. I'd just turned of-age."

"You were of-age at twelve?" asked Dumbledore quizzically.

I nodded slightly. "Dumbledore, it was considered normal to marry your cousin when I was alive. Being of-age at twelve shouldn't be too much to handle."

He smiled at me. "Of course not." He studied me. "I think you missed the worst of the rain, Nicci. But I think you might want to blend in with your friends before they raise an alarm."

I nodded and walked out of his office. When I'd reached the hall, it was nearly five minutes before the others showed up. I slipped into the crowd and grabbed Harry's shoulder, appearing out-of-breath.

"Nicci!" cried Ron. "Where were you?"

"I was in the carriage behind you," I panted. "I must've just missed you. Are you all alright?"

Hermione looked me over. "Why aren't you wet?"

"Drying Charm," I told her. It was actually quite depressing that I could lie to them so easily.

When we walked into the Great Hall, we sat down at the Gryffindor table. I was the only one at the entire table who wasn't completely soaked. The little joys of life.

* * *

**A/N:** Bad ending for the chapter, I know. Oh well. Next chapter _will_ be up today, I swear my life on it. I already know what it's going to be. Might breach the line a little, but it doesn't affect the future at all, and I think it'll be interesting. But what it is, you'll have to wait for.

Duh duh duh!

Disclaimer: Do I even need to say it? Or write it, which is basically the same thing?


	19. Chapter 18: Past and Present: Part I

**Chapter 18: Past and Present: Part I**

**Alecta:**

After dinner ended, Hermione whispered to me, "Can you believe they use _House-Elves_ here?"

"Yes," I said back.

She glared at me. "And you didn't _do_ anything?"

"Why would I?" I asked her in confusion. House-Elves loved working here.

"So!" said Dumbledore finally. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must ask for your attention while I give out a few notices."

I played with my spoon as Dumbledore went on about Ever-Bashing Boomerangs and Screaming Yo-yos. It wasn't until I heard Harry gasp out, "_What_?" that I looked up. Dear Merlin, what was wrong now?

"This is due to an event that will take place that will be starting in October and continuing throughout the school year—" Oh. They were upset about Quidditch. Really—_Quidditch_? "—taking up the teacher's time and energy—but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that Hogwarts—"

He was cut off as the doors to the Great Hall burst open. I swung around in my seat to see—Mad-Eye Moody? I knew him, I knew he was coming, and it was still a shock.

"Who's that?" whispered Ginny in my ear.

"Mad-Eye Moody," I said quietly.

"What _happened_ to him?" muttered Ginny.

"Dark Wizard catcher," I told her, cracking a smile. "He's going to have a few battle scars."

"Nicci, that is not a few. That is covering every bloody inch of his body."

Moody shook Dumbledore's hand and sat down at Dumbledore's right side. He grabbed a piece of food, sniffed it, and almost reluctantly put it in his mouth.

"May I introduce out new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore cheerfully. "Professor Moody."

Hagrid and Dumbledore applauded, but everyone else seemed to be staring at Moody's scars. I couldn't blame them; I'd almost been stunned when I saw him for the first time.

"What happened to him?" whispered Hermione. "What happened to his _face_?"

"Dunno," said Ron.

Moody continued to eat, completely indifferent to the hall of students watching his every move. I stared at Dumbledore and made a c'mon-let's-get-this-over-with kind of motion.

Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly. "As I was saying," he said, smiling, "we have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not taken place for over a century. It is my very great to pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" cried Fred. I snickered along with everyone else. He turned to me and whispered, "I cannot _believe_ you didn't tell us this!"

"I am _not_ joking, Mr. Weasley, though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all walk into a bar—"

McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er - but maybe this is not the time… no…" said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament… well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

I stared at him. For someone who usually got everything right, he was dead wrong. The Tri-Wizard tournament had started a thousand years ago, not seven hundred—it had originally been called the 'Inter-School Championship'—_and_ it had also originally been four schools. Hadn't I mentioned that?

No…maybe I hadn't. I was been about to say something to Ginny when I heard a voice floating through the now-open doors. A voice I recognized.

* * *

**Harry:**

"Did you hear about Alexandra and Christoph?"

A girl's voice came through the open doors.

Harry had been about to call out, when he caught sight of Nicci's face. It was dead-white, pale as marble. What was wrong with her?

And then something happened. Something wrong. Something very wrong.

It was as if the entire world had been plunged into black and white—color was fading from everything—the tables, chairs, and people. Harry was strongly reminded of the time he had gone into Voldemort's memories in his second year.

"No, I did not," said another girl's voice. "What foolish thing have they gone and done now?"

"They got married," said the first girl. "Isn't it perfectly lovely?"

Harry watched in amazement as three girls entered the Great Hall. Even more amazing was the fact that the Great Hall had expanded—there were now two Halls. One the three girls existed in and one where he was.

With a start, he recognized Alecta Gryffindor as one of the girls. But instead of being a ghost, she was perfectly solid. She seemed a little younger than Harry remembered her—maybe eleven or twelve?

"Oh, how romantic," said the third girl.

"Quite," said the first.

"Romantic?" asked Alecta. "They are fifteen."

Hermione and Ginny gasped. Ron, George and Fred blanched. Some of the others looked quite sick.

"I was surprised too," said the first girl airily. "I thought they would have proposed two years prior to the day."

"Two—two years before?" said Hermione, looking disgusted. "They'd have been married at thirteen!"

Harry felt sick.

"Cassandra, that is disgusting. They are children. Why must we marry this young?"

"Not all of us are a beautiful as you," snapped the first girl, Cassandra. "We must marry in our prime—our youth. Their parents were very happy with the union."

"Their—their parents are okay with this?" gasped Hermione, speechless.

"Hermione, Alecta lived a thousand years ago," said Nicci in a bored tone. "It was proper to marry young back then. A thousand years ago, it was considered good if you married your own cousin."

"That's incest," cried Ginny.

"Not back then."

"We are _children_," said Alecta again. "We should not marry this—"

"We are of-age," snarled Cassandra. "We are perfectly within our own rights to choose our path. They were in love."

"But will they still be in five years?" asked Alecta, sitting at the table. "When they are of proper marrying age?"

"This time now is of proper marrying age!" cried Cassandra in exasperation. "I swear, it will take a thousand years for you to find someone good enough for you."

At this, Nicci snorted. Harry couldn't figure out why.

"Alecta! Cassandra!" cried a familiar voice. Hailey Hufflepuff pushed her way towards the trio. "Oh, hello, Violet. I've just been talking with Mother."

"Greetings, Hailey," said Cassandra regally, nodding her head. Harry was reminded of Percy. "And what did Lady Hufflepuff say?"

"She said that they are introducing a new event to the schooling," said Hailey. "A contest of some sort—"

"The Tri-Wizard Tournament," said Hermione suddenly. "This must be the first one!"

"Father mentioned that," said Alecta, frowning slightly. "A contest with Beauxbaxtons, Durmstrang, and Whittlewhie."

"Whittle-what?" asked Ron.

"That's impossible," said George. "There are three schools in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, not four."

"Durmstrang? The school in the north?" said Cassandra. "Maybe we shall find the Ice Queen a suitor with them."

Alecta glared at her. "I am not getting married! That is final, Cassandra."

"Well, at least she's got common sense," snorted Hermione.

"What are you waiting for?" asked Cassandra. "You must be married to—"

"I do not care," snapped Alecta. "I am not going to discuss this anymore and I certainly will not consider it."

Cassandra's jaw tightened, but she sat next to Alecta and the Violet followed suit. Hailey walked over to the Hufflepuff table.

Harry suddenly realized that the tables were full of people. At the high table, where Dumbledore usually sat, a man was getting up. On either side of him sat two women.

"Lords and ladies," said the man. He was tall, with thick muscles and dirty blond hair. He had a stern, tough look that frightened Harry. "It is my honor to welcome you all back to Hogwarts. The Sorting has just finished and before we begin our evening meal, I have an announcement to make."

"Godric Gryffindor," breathed Hermione. "Alecta's father."

The hall sat up a little straighter.

"This year we are introducing a contest to Hogwarts to be played every five years. It is called the 'Inter-School Championship'."

"What?" asked Ron.

"One champion from each Hogwarts, Beauxbaxtons, Durmstrang, and Whittlewhie will face three very dangerous tasks. We think this will be good for international communications and the pure sport of magic. Anyone may enter, but be warned: if you are chosen, there is no going back. You will compete—you will perform—and you may very well die. Choose wisely."

"That's what he says?" cried Hermione. "Choose wisely?"

The girls, the tables, and the man all vanished. The Great Hall returned to normal, color and all. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

* * *

**Alecta:**

On the way up to the Gryffindor Tower, the Weasley twins were still grumbling.

"I cannot believe this," groaned Fred.

"We get a chance and Dumbledore takes it," muttered George.

"And then some visions shows up and starts talking about things that don't make sense," finished Fred.

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Hermione from my other side. "Something happened. Something bad."

"Why?" asked Fred. "Why something bad?"

"Because Whittlewhie got kicked out," said Hermione thoughtfully. "In a tournament where death is part of the glory, Whittlewhie got banned. Which means they must have done something awful."

"Like what?" asked Ron.

"I don't know," said Hermione as George said the password and we all climbed into the common room. "But I have a feeling we're going to find out. There's a reason we're seeing this—there's got to be."

* * *

**A/N:** Eh, maybe kind of short, but still informative. I liked it. It was still 6 pages on Word, though.

No dice?

Darn.

A couple people might think, _Why is the main subject marriage in the flashback/vision?_

Well, because that's probably what it would be about. I think. I mean, women _used_ to worry about marriage, because marriage meant stability and income. (keyword: used.) I'm a girl myself, so I am not being sexist to either race.

Also, the point is that Alecta here is against young marriage. It's something that will come into play later—fifth, maybe sixth book. It's between Alecta and Hailey, actually. I've got an idea, but it's kind of hard to write.

Anyone seen _Inception_? With Leonardo DiCaprio? You know how he says that, "When you have a dream, it always starts in the middle. You can't remember how you got here, can you?" That's kind of how I feel. It's how I feel a lot of the time. I have storylines, but I don't know how I get there.

P.S. That was paraphrasing. That is not an actual quote from _Inception_.

By the way, Alecta has never been married, she's still a virgin, and she's barely had any romance in her life. I mean, how many boyfriends do you have when you're taking out bad guys?

I'm rambling. Sorry. See you guys soon!


	20. Chapter 19: Curses and Cures

**Chapter 19: Curses and Cures**

**Harry:**

"Today's not bad…outside all morning," said Ron as he, Harry, and Hermione poured over their schedules. Nicci had not appeared yet, much to their surprise. Nicci was always the first one up in the morning. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs…and Care of Magical Creatures…damn it, we're still with the Slytherins…"

"Be lucky," said a girl's voice. Harry, Ron, and Hermione swiveled in their seats to see Alecta Gryffindor floating above them, looking at their schedules. "They hated me more than Malfoy hates you. I was a complete disrespect to the Slytherin house; made worse by the fact that I was more Slytherin than the lot of them."

"What about Divination?" asked Harry. "Because we have double of that this afternoon."

"Didn't want it, didn't need it, didn't take it," said Alecta cheerfully. "Besides, our Divination teacher was an old bat. Not," she added, giggling, "that I don't understand your plight, but…"

The door banged open and Hailey and Ben floated in, framed in the doorway, looking murderous. Alecta sighed.

"What were you _thinking_?" asked Ben furiously, reaching her and looking right at her face. "How could you possibly be such a dolt?"

"I haven't done anything!" said Alecta. "Not that you know about, anyway." She cocked her head. "Is this about that plant I blew up in India?"

"You did _what_?"

Alecta didn't respond.

"No," interrupted Hailey. "We're talking about the fact that _you_ made some sort of twisted projection of the first Tri-Wizard Tournament!"

Alecta snorted; it sounded unnatural coming from her mouth. "I didn't do that," she said lightly. "Why would I bring up the past? That's almost as stupid as impossible."

"What d'you mean?"

"I have no idea _what_ happened last night," said Alecta. "I assure you, it was magic far beyond my ability. Besides, I have no want to revisit my past."

Hailey and Ben stared at her. "…What?"

"I didn't do it," she said slowly, as if explaining something to a toddler. "I hate my past; ugh, I forgot how much of a hag Cassandra was. I rather liked Violet, though."

"What happened to them?" asked Hailey suddenly. "I can't remember."

"Violet was murdered in the war, and Cassandra died of some plague a few years later," said Alecta conversationally. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find Nicci."

"Why?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, she borrowed my Invisibility Cloak," said Alecta. "I don't understand it; who in their right mind needs three cloaks?" She glided out of the room, shaking her head.

Hailey sighed and sat next to Harry. "A thousand years and I still can't crack that mask," she said regretfully.

"I'd reward two of my best Invisibility Cloaks to anyone who could," said Ben, floating into a seat next to George. "Or Nicci, for that matter. She's just as impossible. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were the same person."

He and Hailey seemed to find this very funny for some reason. The twins, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at them in confusion.

"Morning," said Nicci brightly, sliding into Hailey's seat. She didn't appear to be at all affected by the ghost's presence.

"Did you find Alecta? She was looking for you," said Hermione.

"Oh, I found her," said Nicci. "And I only borrowed one Invisibility Cloak. Who needs three cloaks at the same time?"

"Why'd you have two?" asked George.

"Does it really matter?" countered Nicci.

Ben shrugged.

"Well, we're going to have to report this to the Council," said Hailey regretfully. "If Alecta didn't do anything, we can't stop this. Looks like you get an inside look on how awful Alecta's life really was."

Hermione looked at her. "Awful?"

"Don't let her sunny personality fool you," warned Ben. "Whenever she admits to something being bad, it was usually ten times worse."

"See you all later," said Hailey, floating above Nicci, who was looking determinedly at her breakfast.

* * *

**Alecta:**

"Miss Lonsen, may I speak with you?"

McGonagall's voice cut through the conversation I'd been having with Harry about bubotuber pus. I turned and nodded.

"See you at Care of Magical Creatures," I said, before following her to Dumbledore's office. When we got there, she said the password, "Ice Mice," and went up the stairs with me in tow.

"Hello, Nicci," said Dumbledore. He was standing by two fires; he had obviously just stopped speaking with them. I realized that Professors Sprout, Flitwick, McGonagall, Moody, and Snape were also there.

"Hello, Dumbledore," I said, conjuring up a chair and sitting in it. "What's up?"

"What ees this student doing 'ere?" cried a woman in the fireplace. "Dumbley-dorr, I will not 'ave any cheating in zis tournament!"

"Oh, get a grip," I said, swinging in the chair to get a better look at the woman, who I saw was Madame Maxime, the headmistress of Beauxbaxtons. "I couldn't care less about this stupid tournament."

"Just because you've already won does not make it boring," chided Dumbledore.

"Already won?" said the other man. "I was under the impression that this tournament had been discontinued some two-hundred years ago. Am I to stand corrected?"

"I don't see why they stopped," I said, examining my fingernails. "I mean, if you're foolish enough to get yourself killed, that's your problem." I cocked my head. "But if everyone dies…well, _that _might be an issue."

"The Tri-Wizard Tournament was indeed stopped two-hundred years ago," said Dumbledore.

The man turned to look at me in the fire. I recognized him almost immediately as Igor Karkaroff, the Durmstrang headmaster. "Then how might you have won?" he sneered.

"We will not be going into that argument today," said Dumbledore. "On the contrary, she is here so we can ask advice."

"I am not taking advice from a girl!" cried Madame Maxime. "We know better than 'er—we are ze 'eadmasters!"

I raised my eyebrows. "Well, Dumbldore—as _ze 'eadmasters_ know better than me, I'll just be on my way. Will _zat_ be all for today?"

"'Ow dare you!" cried Madame Maxime. "You 'ave a vairy foolish student, Dumbley-dore!"

"Foolish? Yes," said Dumbledore. I scoffed. "But I beg of you not to challenge her."

"And why is zat?" asked Madame Maxime, still looking deeply offended.

"Because then Beauxbaxtons will need a new heandmistress," I snapped. "Look, Dumbledore, I didn't come here to be ridiculed for being young. When you decide to have more _civilized_"—I cast an obvious glance at Karkaroff and Maxime—"I'd be happy to help you with your problem. I'm going to go of Care of Magical Creatures now, which will obviously be more interesting than this little meeting." I pulled open the door, only to look back at the group, who were all staring at me with stunned faces. "By the way—the thing you were _going_ to ask me about? You need the Eggs of the Sea. And you'll need four, not three of them."

I slammed the door behind me with a satisfied smile. I wasn't actually angry—I usually never was—but being offended had given me the perfect chance to get out of that _fascinating_ meeting.

I rounded the corner, lost in thought, only to run into—"George?" I asked, not actually believing my eyes.

"Nicci?" he asked. "What are you doing out of class?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I said, crossing my arms.

"I have a free period," he said absent-mindedly. "Shit—Nicci—hide!"

I took my Invisibility Cloak out of my pocket and threw it around us. Just in time, too, as Filch had come running around the corner, wheezing, "Stupid Weasleys…come on…where's that idiotic boy…?" He rounded another corner, disappearing from sight and earshot.

"Where's Fred?" I asked suddenly, sensing something was very wrong.

"Oh, he's gone to distract Filch," said George. "You know, do a little mischief here and there, while I—"

"Set off a prank, I know, I know," I said, giving him an exasperated smile. "Do you ever change?"

"Never," he said with a grin. "You have no idea what you've gotten into, Lonsen."

I sent a full-on pout in his direction. "I think I can handle it."

Oh God. Was I…_flirting_?

_What might _possibly_ give you that idea?_

_Oh, shut up, _I snapped.

He stepped an inch closer. "Oh?"

I held my ground. I could fight armies, and monsters, and Dark wizards…but not boys. Ridiculous, right? "You don't give me enough credit, Weasley."

The bell rang for the end of class. Holy crap! It'd been an hour already? Was that even possible? Of course, I wouldn't have gone to Care of Magical Creatures anyway, but still…awful timing much?

Reluctantly, I said good-bye to George and walked towards the Great Hall.

_Explain, lover-girl._

"Go away!" I said out loud.

_Fat chance._

_Why won't you leave me alone? You've left me alone for a thousand years—oh no, I'm arguing with myself again._

_I am your rather sexual conscience._

_Um…trust me, you could've left the sexual part out._

I could practically feel my inner voice glaring at me. _I'll wonder how long you'll hold out before you attack him._

_I am not going to attack him!_

_I meant shag him, you idiot._

_You're me—shouldn't you know?_

_If you don't know, then I don't know._

"Stop it!" I said aloud yet again.

* * *

On Thursday, I was heading to Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Harry and Ron. Harry and Ron were talking about Snape, who'd been in a particularly horrible mood lately.

"I reckon Snape's a bit scared of him, you know," said Harry.

"Imagine if Moody turned Snape into a horned toad," said Ron dreamily, "and bounced him around the dungeon…"

"Or a pink bunny," I said, grinning. "Humiliating on so many different levels…I'll have to talk to George about that…"

_And Fred,_ I reminded myself in annoyance.

We ended up outside Moody's door nearly five minutes before class started. I turned to Harry to ask why we were there so early, when I saw about half of the Gryffindors in our year waiting outside the entrance.

"You're joking, right?" I muttered. "It's just Mad-Eye Moody."

Finally, Hermione came rushing down the hallway as the door opened. "Been in the—"

"Library," said Harry, rolling his eyes. "C'mon, get in quick, or we won't get decent seats."

As we walked into the classroom, I muttered, "More spew?"

"It is S.P.E.W.," Hermione reminded me shrilly. "And I haven't decided on the name yet."

"Trust me, Hermione, I think you're better off. I'm not signing up for helf."

"H.E.L.F.," she snapped as we sat down.

"And you know what that's one letter away from? _Hell,_ Hermione."

"Oh, shut up," she muttered, glaring at me.

As the lesson progressed, I became increasingly more aggravated. I knew exactly what the Unforgivables were—why was I wasting an hour on them?

Moody was just about to use the Killing Curse on one of the spiders. It was almost as if he was waiting for something, because he kept on looking at the class, and talking, and shouting 'CONSTANT VIGILENCE!'

Finally, when he still hadn't killed the spider, I said, "Would you please just get on with it? So you're about to kill a spider. We can use your textbook for that."

Moody glared as the rest as the class gave me frightened looks. "Would you like to demonstrate the curse?" Moody gestured at the spider.

"If it gets the class over with," I retorted.

Obviously, this was not the answer Moody was expecting. He walked around the classroom and looked down at me. "Well? Go on, then!" He took a drink from his hip flask.

I stood up, walked past him, and put the spider on the table. Moody, along with everyone else in the class, was watching me carefully. I raised my wand and said, "_Avada Kedavra_!"

Should it hurt? Should I feel guilt? Have I been twisted so much that magic to cause death didn't even bother me anymore?

The answer, of course, was yes. But did it hurt?

I stared at the spider, now dead. The faces of everyone I've ever cared about flashed before me, each struck down by the exact same curse. Did it hurt to use that curse?

No, it didn't.

The room was silent. Everyone was watching the spider. Moody looked impressed. I turned around sharply and walked back to my seat.

* * *

**A/N: **I am so sorry it took so long! I've been really busy lately; school started up and I had to go on a five-day trip without any electronics. No computers. *sigh*

So, I hope you like it. I think the last few paragraphs kind of show exactly what Nicci's hiding. And she _does_ care, and it _does_ hurt. Don't make her out to be a jerk.

Next chapter...argh, I don't know when that's going to be. I'll try to get it up soon. I've been writing a lot of the Yule Ball scene, maybe I'll post a little of that. It might not be the same as the final thing, but it'd be a gap filler.

Tell me what you think: whenever I have writer's block or can't post a chapter, I'll upload a bit of a preview of stuff to come. Hmm...I'll consider it.

Disclaimer: It's still not mine.


	21. Chapter 19A: At the Yule Ball

**Chapter 19A: At the Yule Ball**

_Basically, this entire thing will be from Nicci's point of view. Remember, this is only a preview, and I might change it later. The scene starts right after Ron yells at Hermione for the first time, just before Harry and Ron leave. Don't ask me the page, because I don't know. And the next real chapter should be up this weekend, either Saturday or Sunday. Hope you like it! Oh, also, tell me if you like the previews or not. Some people hate having the surprise ruined for them, but others think it's a good lead-up. I don't know. This doesn't actually give much away, though, because I haven't _really _added as much._

_I'm so sorry about the wait!_

I watched Hermione leave and glared over at Ron. "Oh, good job, Ron," I said sarcastically. I jumped up and followed her.

"Hi," I said carefully as I walked over to her. "I'm sorry about Ron."

"Why is he acting like this, Nicci? I thought he _liked_ Krum! I thought Krum was an idol!"

"I don't think it's Krum that he's mad about, Hermione. I think it's the fact that Krum went with you."

"But Ron doesn't care!" cried Hermione in frustration. "I was a back-up to him—a last resort! Why would he _care_?"

"I think it's more subconscious," I said thoughtfully. "Who knows, Hermione? Ron's thick—even for a boy."

"Thanks, Nicci," said Hermione, wiping her eyes. "I'm going to go and try to find Viktor, all right?"

"Go ahead," I told her, pushing her off her seat. "I'm fine."

"Is Harry a bad date?" asked Hermione.

"Nah," I said. "I'm good at dancing—it doesn't mean I like it."

"All right…well, see you later."

I waved to her as she left.

10 minutes, 3 cups of punch, and too many Weird Sister songs later, I was still sitting in my seat look bored out of my mind. If you didn't have a date—or if it'd disappeared with Ron five minutes ago—there was really nothing to do. Ginny was dancing with Michael Corner, Hermione had gone off to find Krum, and I was sitting here, wishing for some Firewhiskey.

Okay, so maybe I look fourteen, but don't forget I'm over a thousand years old. I'm legally over-age.

"Hey, Nics," said a voice a little ways off.

Aha! My Firewhiskey had come in the form of George Weasley.

"Hi, George," I said, patting the seat next to me. "Come and sit, why don't you?"

He sat down next to me. "Where's Fred?" I asked.

"Dancing with Angelina," he said, sounding bored. "There is _nothing_ to do."

"No kidding," I said. "Weren't you going with…Alicia Spinnet or someone?"

"Yeah, but it was more as friends," he replied. "She ran off with Katie Bell fifteen minutes ago—probably to go talk in the loo."

"Sounds fun," I grinned, stretching my legs. "Well, your date beat mine—he ran off with Ron five minutes ago."

"Harry? Where?" he asked suspiciously.

I gave him a half-glare. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Weasley."

He laughed at me. Since neither of us could think of anything else to say, we fell into a silence which was not quite comfortable, but not awkward either.

"You want to dance?" he suddenly asked me.

"Dance? Well—" I tried to find a reason not to, but came up short. "Sure. Why not?"

We got up and started moving towards the dance floor. After carefully avoiding Fred and Angelina, we stopped in a more deserted corner of the hall. But just as we were about to start dancing to the ridiculously fast song, it slowed and stopped.

"Just our luck," muttered George.

A slow song started up. George looked at me, mumbled, "I—well—you don't –" and fell silent again. I made my decision.

I grabbed his shoulders and after a few moments he took my waist. I found myself liking the feel of his hands on my waist. _Now_ I knew why Mirror-Me had been so happy when Mirror-George had put an arm around her waist. He was good at it. Now if only I knew what it was like to closer—

What the _hell_ was I thinking? I couldn't believe I was getting so side-tracked by George's hand on my waist.

_This is where the powerful witch gets over-ruled by the hormonal teenager,_ said a smug inner voice.

_Shut up._

_Don't tell me you're not enjoying it—because I know you're enjoying it._

_How do you know?_

_Because I'm _you_, idiot._

This thought snapped me out of my private argument.

"So…this is nice," I said awkwardly.

"Yeah," he agreed.

This song was going on forever! I mean, it'd only been thirty seconds, but still.

**A/N: **I feel so much better knowing that at least I'm giving you guys something. I literally had a breakdown from stress the other day because I was trying to write two papers, the new chapter, and read a school book at the same time. I'll have plenty of time over the weekend, though.

I really do ramble a lot. If you get bored of my insane mind-wanderings, you can just skip to the end.


	22. Chapter 20: Something About Hogwarts

**Chapter 20: Something About Hogwarts**

**Alecta:**

This might have been completely needless to say, but Defense Against the Dark Arts was rapidly becoming my least favorite class. Moody obviously knew what he was doing, but as we'd progressed into fighting off the Imperius Curse I was sick of hearing people mutter, "Wonder where she learned it from," or "It's not normal," or even, worst of all, "If she can defend _against_ the Imperius Curse, she can probably perform it too!"

"The way he talks," groaned Harry as we walked out of the classroom, "you'd think we were all going to be attacked any second."

"I just wish he'd let me out of it," I said in annoyance. "It's as plain as day that I can do it, and I'm sick of hearing people contemplate whether I'm going to be the first Gryffindor Death Eater."

Harry and Ron stared at me. "And, for the record," I whispered, leaning in close to them, "none of them can throw it off either."

I walked off, smiling. It was completely true, of course, but I'd let them puzzle over how I knew that.

"Hello, Miss Lonsen," said a pleasant voice next to me. I groaned.

"I just can't escape from you people, can I?" I asked sadly.

"Well, certainly not," said Dumbledore. "I was just coming to take a stroll."

"I think a stroll means that both parties are in agreement," I said firmly. "And I most _certainly_ am not."

"Why ever not?" asked Dumbledore politely.

"You're joking, right?" I asked finally. "Come on, Dumbledore! Madame Maximum and Igor Carcass!"

Dumbledore sighed. "Please tell me that you do not intend to keep those nicknames once Durmstrang and Beauxbaxtons arrive."

"I might," I said thoughtfully. "See how much they can take before they try to curse me." I imitated a five-year-old asking for candy as I said sarcastically, "Ooh, can I, Dumbly-dore? Can I?"

He hid it well, but I'm positive he cracked a smile.

"Why must you poke fun at Madame Maxime's accent?" he asked finally as we "strolled" around the yard. I was missing Charms, but there was nothing Flitwick could come up with that would surprise me.

"Excuse me, but she poked fun at my age!" I cried indignantly. "It's the Gryffindor way to have retaliation!"

"I think it's the Slytherin way, actually," said Dumbledore, smiling slightly.

I shrugged. "Well, I'm that too."

He sighed again. "There really is no defeating you, is there?"

"Not after a thousand years, no," I snorted.

He glanced at me. "It's easy to forget that you're older than me," he admitted. "You seem so...young."

"Well, I had to fit in. You didn't think I was going to be a stuck-up, all-knowing, wisdom-filled saint, did you?"

"Is it like being home again?" he asked as we reached the Black Lake.

I looked at him. "No," I said. "It's not."

He watched me carefully. "Not?"

"Not," I said again. "It's too...corrupted. Not Hogwarts, necessarily, but the Ministry? Death Eaters? I don't know...Maybe it's because no one knows who the hell I am. Maybe it's because my father's dead and I haven't seen him in a thousand years." I stared out into the water. "Maybe because I'm lying to everyone I know and trust."

"It really bothers you, doesn't it?"

I snorted. "Just a smidge." Changing the subject, I said, "When are Beauxbaxtons coming?"

He gave me an amused look. "Tomorrow."

"What?" I yelped.

"Nicci, you are not exceptionally observant when you don't want to be, are you?"

I looked at him. "Huh?"

He smiled even more pleasantly and walked away.

I came to two decisions: How anyone could stand that man was beyond me. And I couldn't walk three feet without someone finding me.

"Hi, you're Nicci Lonsen, right?"

What _now_? "Hi, Cedric," I said.

"Didn't we travel Portkey together?"

"Yes," I said, looking up at him. "Me, and your dad, and the Weasleys and Harry and Hermione. There were a lot of us."

He nodded once. "Er, are you looking forward to the TriWizard Tournament?"

"No, not particularly," I told him. "Are you going to enter?"

"Aren't you?"

"I'm underage," I lied. It was actually quite amusing that I was lying through my teeth and he was buying it.

"Well, yeah, but...you always give off the impression that the rules don't apply to you."

I grinned brightly at him and he looked slightly stunned. "Thanks, Cedric," I said truthfully. "I'm not really a following-rules type."

"I could probably keep you in check," he grinned back, laughing.

"Is that a challenge?"

He pretended to think. "I'm sure that I could handle a fourth year."

"Excuse me, but I only break rules if I can back myself up duel-wise. You might want to think this one over, buddy. I'm not your average fourth year."

"Well, I'm not your average seventh year."

We stared at each other, obviously waiting for someone to crack.

"What _are_ you doing?" I finally asked.

"Trying to get past your mask," said Cedric, searching my face.

"My what?"

"Mask," he admitted. "I can't get through it."

"So?"

"I do envy the person who can, though," he said as if I weren't there. "That's the key."

I stared at him. "Okay...um, I've got to go. Er, George asked me to help him with something."

"George Weasley?" he asked sharply. "What's he want with you?"

"He doesn't want anything with me," I snapped. "I've been helping them with something and he asked me to go see him."

"Well then," he said in a cool tone. "See you around." And he walked off.

I felt as useless as Ron and Harry these days.

* * *

The next day, I skipped Potions, my last period, and went down to see Hagrid. "Hi, Fang," I said, as the dog came bounding out of the house and licking my face.

"Nicci! What're yeh doin'? I though' yeh'd be in class now," Hagrid said curiously, walking out of his cottage and clapping me on the back. "I was jus' working with the skrewts—woul' yeh know, they're gettin' better!"

I winced. "Hagrid, exactly how long are we going to be working on this little...project?"

"Well, I don't know meself," he replied. "I though' we'd experiment with 'em...see how they'd grow. Maybe the whole year."

I groaned quietly. "So, excited about Durmstrang and Beauxbaxtons?" I asked, trying to escape the bad news that was just piling up around me.

"Well, yeah," he said. "I've never been to either schools meself. And yeh?"

"Thrilled," I said sarcastically.

"C'mon, then," said Hagrid. "These skrewts won't feed themselves, yeh know."

"Do we have to?" I asked despairingly.

Hagrid chuckled.

"What?" I cried defensively. "I didn't skip class so I could do work!"

He chuckled again and passed me a bowl of skrewt-grub.

"So..." I started after we'd been working for a few minutes. "Excited about the TriWizard Tournament?" My God, was I really that low on ice-breakers?

"Yeah," said Hagrid. "Dumbledore told me abou' the Firs' Task. Gonna be grea', 'specially since yer not in it."

"Oh, you mean the dragons?" I asked. "Yeah, that'll be interesting."

He looked at me. "How'd yeh know abou' the dragons?"

"It's a gift," I said vaguely.

"Yeh saw it in one of yer visions, didn't yeh?"

"Well, maybe—yeah."

"What're the next two goin' to be?" he asked me.

"I won't give away my secrets," I said in the same mystic tone. Translation: I have no specifics and saying 'Lake' and 'Maze' sounds pathetic. "What dragons are there?"

"According ter Dumbledore, a Hungarian Horntail, Welsh Green, Chinese Fireball, an' Swedish Short-Snout."

"Ooh," I said. "Should be interesting."

He chuckled again.

An hour later, Hagrid told me to go up to the castle and get ready for Durmstrang. "Yeh might wan' ter take a shower," he said, shaking his head.

I glared at him frostily. "I took one this morning."

He turned away, but I swear he was laughing.

After taking the fastest shower in history (one minute and thirty-two seconds), I threw on more robes and went down to where McGonagall was setting up Gryffindor House. Slipping into the line behind Ginny, a few spaces away Harry, Ron, and Hermione, I heard McGonagall say, "Weasley, straighten your hat. And Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

I snorted.

Ginny whipped around and stared at me. "How do you _do _that?"

"Do what?"

"I didn't even notice you came!" she exclaimed. "And did you just take a shower?"

"What, did you think I'd come down with 'Essence of Blast-Ended Skrewts'?"

"I thought you had Potions last," said Ginny suspiciously.

"I skived off," I told her. "And then I went down to see Hagrid and _he _roped me into helping him with those monsters."

"But you still prefer the skrewts?" asked Ginny, giggling.

"Exactly," I said.

"Nicci!" hissed Hermione, pulling me away from Ginny and over to where the three of them were standing. "Where _have_ you been? Why weren't you in Potions?"

"With Hagrid,"I repeated. "Why?"

"Well, I think it was awfully—"

"It's nearly six," interrupted Ron, looking at his watch. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"

"I doubt it," said Hermione.

"How then? Broomsticks?" suggested Harry.

"No," I told them. "Beauxbaxtons and Durmstrang are too far away for broomsticks to bring them. Just you wait—they'll have devised something flashy and impressive to intimidate the Hogwarts students. Never forget, Harry, that we witches and wizards can never resist showing off when we get together."

Standing there, in the cold, became a problem after a while. Yeah, yeah, patience is a virtue, but come on. I freaking _thrived _on sins. The seven deadly sins: Pride? Check. Envy? You betcha. Anger? Well, duh. Sloth? I could be pretty damn lazy when I wanted to. And that was often. Greed? No! Maybe...fine. Yeah. Gluttony? Actually, I didn't have a problem with gluttony. Probably from all the fighting. Lust? Not _quite_ yet, but I'd never really found someone to lust after. Give me a few years.

Where did that all come from again?

Oh yeah! Patience!

That's not nearly as interesting. Hm.

**A/N: **Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry. I'v been kind of busy. And yes, this is important, but I'm allowed to have a life, you know!

I'll try to get the next one out soon, but I do have a lot of work. School started and my life has been a mess. More exciting stuff coming up soon!


	23. Chapter 21:Aftermath

**Chapter 21: Aftermath**

**Alecta:**

This was bad. This was inexplicably bad. I stared at Dumbledore as Harry walked out, trying to carry out some sort of conversation with him.

_What do we do?_ Thank God. I caught his eye.

_Well, I don't know! Just—go after him, I suppose!_

He looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

I nodded. _Yeah, I'm coming._

I looked across the room, there was some shock, some confusion, and some (guess who) some smirks. I could almost feel Malfoy's slimy little pureblood hands (we'll temporarily ignore the fact that I'm a pureblood as well) twisting in some evil fashion, thinking, _He's a goner now, how do I best sabotage his chances of survival?_

Well, he would, if he were that subtle or that smart.

Ron was glaring very darkly at his plate. It would take someone as thick as Malfoy not to guess what was wrong.

"Ron," I said in an annoying sing-song voice (you see, the best way to get Ron to stop being mad at someone is to get him mad at something else), "the mashed potatoes wouldn't disintegrate if you continue staring at them, I'm sorry to say."

"Stop it, Nicci," he growled out, mashing up his pot pie with his fork. "I really don't want to talk."

"It tastes disgusting if you do that," I finished conversationally. He looked at his food, looked at me, scowled, and got up.

"Oh, Ron," started Hermione. "Ronald! It wasn't Harry's—"

At that, he let out his breath in a huff and stalked off.

I turned to Hermione, "I think you just hit the nail on the head."

Hermione groaned. "If he were thinking straight, he would know that it wasn't Harry's fault. I mean, Harry's face was so shocked when they called his name! There's no way it could have been him. Besides, Harry doesn't go looking for danger. Danger usually just—"

"—finds him," I finished for her. "Any thinking person would know that Harry didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire. But since when has Ron ever thought that much about these sorts of things?"

"And since when has Ron refused to let his jealousy get the best of him?" agreed Hermione half-heartedly. "You're right, Nicci, but what do we do?"

"Nothing," I said forcefully. "They're boys, they won't listen to us. Ron'll come around and they'll be best friends again, because if they can survive a giant chess board, the Chamber of Secrets, and Peter Pettigrew without killing each other, nothing can break that bond."

"Which of those situations calls for either of them to kill each other?"

I considered thoughtfully as I got up to leave the Hall. "None of them, I suppose," I said. "This'll be quite the challenge, won't it?"

"Nicci!"

* * *

**Harry:**

"Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

"No," replied Harry uncomfortably.

"Did you ask an older student to put it in for you?" asked Dumbledore.

"No!" replied Harry vehemently.

"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" cried Madam Maxime. Snape was shaking his head, lip curling.

There was a loud creaking sound as the door opened once again and Nicci Lonsen came strolling in. Harry stared at her in disbelief. What on earth was _she_ doing _here_, of all places? Though, Harry had to admit, it was a relief to know that there was someone who would believe him.

"You know, Dumbledore," she commented, as if there was nothing more happening then a small chat, "you should really get that door fixed."

"Your presence is not needed here, Lonsen," snarled Snape. "Nor, believe it or not, is it wanted."

"Nor is yours most of the time," replied Nicci coolly, "and yet you're always lurking about like an overgrown bat."

Harry stared at her. He knew she was brave and impossibly fearless, but to insult Snape to his face in front of all the other teachers was something no one could ever have thought of before. Incredibly, no one commented on the exhange, not even the Ministry officials. Professor McGonagall sighed, Dumbledore closed his eyes, and Snape snarled a bit more, but aside from that, no one even bothered to tell her off.

"Erm—Well—," coughed Bagman awkwardly. "This is—this is really about the Tri-Wizard Tournament, you see, and—well—"

"Nicci," began Dumbledore, "has there ever been a time in Hogwarts History where there have been four champions?"

Harry couldn't believe his ears. Why would Nicci know? She was one of the youngest people in the room! Looking around the room, he saw Fleur and Cedric exchange looks. Krum frowned.

"Why are you asking 'er?" cried Madam Maxime. "Thees ees—!"

"Yes," Nicci stated firmly, cutting her off. "There was, actually. The very first. The fourth school, Whittlewhie, all the way back to when Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff were still alive."

"Vhat?" cried Karkaroff. "No. Impossible."

"Look, buddy, I lived with ghosts who were alive in that era for a year and a half," Nicci snapped at him. "Don't talk to me like I'm some little girl." She took a breath. Karkaroff looked too shocked to be offended. "Anyway, in the middle of the Third Task, Whittlewhie's champion tried to kill m—er, Godric Gryffindor's daghter, Alecta. He ended up dead and Whittlewhie was permanently banned from the tournament." She looked thoughtful. "But no one could ever tell the Goblet that, so suppose if you entered under the name 'Whittlewhie' you could theoretically be chosen as the fourth champion."

"Why have we never heard this story?" questioned Professor McGonagall skeptically. Harry privately thought she was right to ask that. There were a lot of stories that'd he'd never heard of that Nicci somehow knew. In fact, the 'how' behind half the things she'd done was something he never knew.

Nicci grinned. "Ghosts, of course. Half of them change the stories to make themselves look better and the other half are so confusing with their accents or speech that the stories get twisted around. It's like Muggles reading Shakespeare."

"Who?" asked Ludo Bagman.

"A Muggle writer," groaned Nicci. "Honestly, you people, you pretend you don't care at all about Muggles and then every chance you get you ask questions about them. Anyway," she added, "yes, it has happened before and it's perfectly in the rules, so don't even bother arguing about it."

"Well, _I_ for one insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff. Now that Nicci had stopped talking, he had resumed arguing. His face wore a very ugly look indeed. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."

"Well, that would be nice, if it worked like that," replied Nicci, cutting over Bagman's pained excuses, "but the Goblet of Fire has gone out and it won't restart until the next tournament. That is, if there is one," she added on omniously.

"Well, I can assure you Durmstrang will not be competing!" cried Karkaroff in outrage. In fact, I have half a mind to leave—"

"And trust me, we all wish you would," muttered Nicci under her breath.

"—right now!"

"Empty threat, Karkaroff," growled a voice from near the door. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

It was Moody, Harry realized, entering menacingly. He walked toward Dumbledore slowly, each step making a loud clunk.

"Exactly," said Nicci, gesturing to Moody. "I understand that you're upset, but really, you're not helping the situation. I'd work on that character flaw if I were you." She turned to Dumbledore, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that she had just insulted the two foreign headmasters in one swift blow. "I have things to do and places to go and this dark chamber with angry people is not one of those places. So, good night, farewell, and godspeed." She walked to the doorway of the chamber.

"If ve need to vork on our attitude," snarled Karkaroff behind her. "You obviously need to vork on your ability to respect the people above you."

"Ah, yes," Nicci replied, actually smiling as she looked back. "But, Headmaster, I've been working on that my entire life."

**A/N:** Don't kill me!

Okay, I understand if you do want to kill me, and I will allow you to kill me because I completely and utterly deserve it. But if you do, you'll never get the rest of your story...Or my story?

Hmmmm...

Anyway, I'm sorry, sorry, sorry and I will be updating more often because I have break from school and no plans and I will be spending every waking moment writing.

Scout's Honor.

And I'm sorry if this chapter is boring-ish, but I had to get that whole thing out of the way. It's called compartmentalizing (I think) and the next chapter will be longer and a lot more funny and will be out tomorrow because I have a lot of free time. And let me explain quickly this little thing about Nicci/Alecta. I don't think Nicci is very good around adults, mostly because she's about 100 times older than half of them, but none of them really respect her. So she hates half of them and doesn't really deal with the other half. She may seem kind of bratty, but really she's just unsure of where to stand.


	24. Chapter 22: Emotional Turmoil

**Chapter 22: Emotional Turmoil**

**Alecta:**

This morning was going to be bad morning. I could just tell the moment I woke up that I was screwed over in the cosmic universe. Like, Harry Potter-screwed over.

And no, this feeling had nothing to do with the fact I could see the future.

"Nicci!"

I rolled over obnoxiously, recognizing Ginny's voice. Why did everyone feel the need to yell my name so loudly? And I, for one, knowing I am not a morning person, am not going to respond. Dragons, ghosts, other murderous magical creatures...they all understood the need to sleep in! Why didn't witches and wizards?

...Maybe ghosts were a bad example.

"Nicci Lonsen! Get _up_!" I landed hard on the floor and glared up at Ginny, who was smirking behind her hand. "It's already nine-thirty!"

I closed my eyes. "I cannot believe you." I stood up slowly. "I will _murder _you, Ginevra Molly Weasley."

"Right, well, when you're done with that, Hermione wants to meet you in the Great Hall," said Ginny, seemingly disinterested with my morning mutterings. "And I wanted to ask you—what do you think of Brian Cinderford?"

"Oh, _no_," I said vehemently, grabbing clothes and heading to the loo. "No, no, _no_. I cannot _help_ you with romantic advice, Ginny. Not happening. I know about as much about romance as you do about war."

"But who else do I ask?" demanded Ginny, calling through the door. "Hermione's too busy reading and all the other girls in my year are too busy staring at the other boys."

"And so you decided to ask me for advice," I said, staring at her as I came out of the bathroom. "Why didn't you ask someone more helpful for advice, such as, I don't know...The Fat Lady or McGonagall?"

Much to my surprise, Ginny didn't laugh. "You're not funny."

"What exactly do you expect me to do, Ginny?"

"Come with me to the next Hogsmeade trip," she demanded as we walked down the stairs from the dormitory, "and scope him out."

"You mean _stalk him_?" I asked in disbelief.

"Precisely," Ginny said cheerfully. "I'm so glad we're on the same page."

I stopped outside the Fat Lady's portrait and eyed her carefully. "If I _stalk him_, will you make me a cake?"

"I would, if I could cook or you liked cake."

"Damn." That was not the answer I had expected. "All right. You pass. I'll help you."

"_Nicci Lonsen_!" Hermione was stalking up the stairs, looking murderous. "Where have you _been_?"

"Er, in my bed, having a much better time," I replied.

"Ginny, I sent you up for her half an hour ago!" she cried impatiently. "What could you have possibly been _doing_?"

"You _sent_ her?" I said indignantly. "I am not to be summoned, Hermione, I am to be asked kindly with the promise of teas and cakes at the end!"

"Nicci, you don't like cake," said Hermione impatiently.

"Do you see what you're doing?" I asked Ginny frantically. "You are destroying my brain cells!"

"You're acting like an idiot," said Hermione dryly. "Snap out of it."

"It is _way _too early for this."

"It's ten o' clock."

I moaned.

"Nicci, I need your—"

"Don't," I interrupted her. "Don't say help."

"—help with Harry and Ron—"

"Of course," I muttered in annoyance.

"—because they're still not speaking with each other and it's driving me insane!"

"Obviously, you don't need me, then," said Ginny, edging her way down the stairs. "So, er, I'll see you in Hogsmeade, Nicci. And if you don't show, I really will bake you a cake."

Hermione stared at me. "What?"

"Never mind. Anyway, what?"

"Harry. Ron. Fight."

"Ah, yes. Hormonal boys, in a one-sided fight to be alpha male."

"Nicci, you truly are a raving lunatic."

"I am not. If you try to understand everything, you will end up with spattergroit."

"No, you won't, Nicci. That's not even close to the cause of spattergroit."

"That's un-important right now."

"How is it that you can go from being utterly serious and outspoken to raving mad in three seconds flat?"

"It's called Not-A-Morning-Person Syndrome. So, are we strategizing?"

"Yes," said Hermione stopping outside the Great Hall. "Ron is in there. Harry is in bed."

"Divide and Conquer?"

"Exactly."

"I call Not-Ron."

"Too bad, I already decided on Harry. At least he'll be responsive. Ron has been answering me with grunts all morning."

"Hermione!" I cried in despair. "I don't speak Troll!"

"No, but you do speak Boy."

"I do?"

"I hope so," said Hermione, walking into the Hall and grabbing some toast (for Harry, I guessed), "because he's over there. Go and talk."

"Talk about what? The weather?"

"As long he uses words like a normal person," said Hermione, "take what you can get."

I threw her a grimace and went to sit down across the table from Ron. "Hello, Ron."

Grunt.

"All right, er, how's the weather?"

Grunt.

Merlin, Hermione hadn't been joking. It was like trying to converse with a miniature troll. And I know my trolls.

"Ronald, grunt again and I will slap you."

He threw me a surprised look. This was the first time I'd ever actually used his whole first name. "Is there something you need?"

"Yeah, for you to stop acting like a royal prat," I said to him conversationally.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"Of course I do, Ron! I know everything." He arched one eyebrow. "All right, so Hermione filled me in. Why? Why does everything have to be so complicated?"

He looked at me with disgust. "You're just like him. You always get what you want. You're always the hero, aren't you, Lonsen?"

"Actually, _Weasley_, I'm not. Obviously, though, you're not a morning person either, so I'm going to leave and pretend this conversation never happened because I'm a _hero_ like that."

"Fine, then! Go!" Ron was on his feet.

"You're becoming more and more of a miniature troll every sentence," I remarked thoughtfully. "Don't act like this around Hermione though, because she really hasn't done anything wrong. Oh! Yeah!" I added, leaning across the table to look him in the eye, "If you ever, _ever,_ call me a hero again, I _will_ hex you."

"Got it," said Ron obnoxiously.

"Well, then," I said falsely. "I'm so _happy_ we had this talk."

* * *

The following week was even worse than the Saturday I'd had my lovely 'talk' with Ron. And I use the term 'talk' in the loosest way possible. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw had seemingly joined forces to mock Harry and anyone who remained friends with him.

Hermione and I, by definition.

Friday, of course, was the day I became sick of the badges, the taunts, the vicious insults thrown and Harry and Hermione (and on a lesser level, _moi_) not by Slytherins nor Ravenclaws (who weren't even that clever in my opinion—talk about an inflated head) but by _Hufflepuffs_. Hufflepuffs do not _insult_. More importantly, they _cannot_ insult.

But I suppose, for Hufflepuffs, they were quite mean. One of my best friends had been the daughter of Helga Hufflepuff, and she happened to be one of those kind souls who couldn't even crush an ant. So seeing Hufflepuffs, her indirect legacy, acting like this nonsense, was infuriating.

Of course, as a ghost, she wasn't such a kind soul, but when she was alive she was an angel. And her twin, Hamish. And Benjamin. And then there was Silen, my infuriating cousin—and I'm finding myself almost missing him.

Bad sign, Alecta. Bad sign.

So I decided to trace this Hufflepuff catastrophe to its source—Cedric Diggory. Technically, he wasn't encouraging it, but he wasn't dissuading it either so I had fair grounds for a duel. Technically.

I found him sitting by the Black Lake with a group of his friends. This 'twas shaping up quite nicely.

_You cannot say 'This 'twas', Alecta._

Why not?

_It's not proper._

Who cares if it's proper?

_Your conscience._

But I don't listen to you.

_Alecta!_

You sound like my mother. This isn't exactly a good thing.

_Go to hell._

I'd give myself a pat on the back for the brilliant impersonation, but they're looking at me, and—

Oh my Merlin, they're looking at me.

"Go back to your cave, Lonsen!"

See, this is why Hufflepuffs should not insult other Houses, They are, quite simply, bad at it. I haven't lived in a cave for three years.

"Well, I would, if there were any," I called back. "But unfortunately, I'm finding you prats instead. I really would've preferred the cave. Maybe a dragon for dramatic effect."

They obviously had no idea how to respond to that because they started muttering amoung themselves.

"Lay off, guys," said Cedric firmly. "Nicci's not hurting you."

"Oh, my hero," I said dryly. "What godly task will you perform for me next?" I walked up to them and gave the others a dark look. "Leave."

"I'm sorry, what?" asked Diggory.

"Them," I replied, gesturing to said 'thems.' "Scram. Ske-daddle. Scoot."

A couple of them turned on me, wands raised, but Diggory said, "It's all right, guys. Just go up to the castle."

I spun around and glared at him. "All right, cut that out. I do not _need,_ nor do I _want_ your help. Don't boss them around like I'm some little bug you can squash on your 're a real git, you know that? And _leave_!" I yelled at the rest of the group. They turned around and walked away quickly.

"Nicci?" asked Diggory. "Nicci, okay. I'm sorry. Can you tell me why you wanted to see me?"

"Hm? Oh. Yeah." I advanced on him and he stepped back, like some form of a mutilated dance. "You need to tell your House to _get a freaking grip_ and stop acting like such babies because they didn't get all the glory they wanted. If I hear one more insult directed at Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, or anyone else who appears to be talking with him I will squash your little House like a bug."

"And how do you plan to do that, Lonsen?" questioned Diggory. He looked angry now.

"I lived on a battlefield, in the midst of war, for nine years, Diggory. I know hexes you wouldn't even dream of in your little Charms class. Do not mess with me, my friends, or my house or you will pay."

"Nicci, it's not me!" Diggory defended himself, raising his hands in the air. "It's the fourth, fifth and sixth years."

"Well, then, talk to them, Pretty-Boy Diggory," I snapped. "Because I am not a patient person and Gryffindors are known for their recklessness and loyalty. So I advise you to talk fast."

"Are you threatening me?" he argued.

I stared at him. "Are you honestly _just_ picking that up now? Because if you are, then you really don't deserve to complain about not having any special traits. Certainly not intelligence or observation."

"Why are you so cruel?" he asked curiously.

"What?" I was taken off-guard for a second. "Has _nothing_ I said gotten through to you? What the hell are you on about now?"

"Why are you so mean?"

"Because that's when people listen," I replied shortly. "Kindness gets you nowhere when you're dealing with people you don't trust."

"You don't trust me?"

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question, Lonsen."

"No, of course not! I hardly know you, your housemates have been insulted my two friends for the past week, and you're a bit empty-headed. That doesn't really add up to trust. Now will you please tell me you'll talk to your housemates so I don't have to curse the lot of you?"

"I don't understand," said Diggory.

"There are a lot of things you're not understanding," I fumed at him.

"Will you please stop insulting my intelligence?"

"Will you please start pretending you're aware of the world around you?"

"Nicci, why are you really here?"

"Diggory, you are not a psychiatrist. I am here to warn you and your house to stay away from my friends."

I was about to walk away when he grabbed my arm and blurted out, "I'm sorry, I know I must sound like a real idiot—"

"Yeah."

"—but really, I just want to talk to you."

"I take it you don't want to talk about me threatening your house?"

"No."

"Well, then," I said, turning around again. "That's...new."

"You see, er, well, that is...d'you want to go on the next Hogsmeade trip with me?"

I looked at him in disbelief. "I came here, threatened you with bodily harm and you're asking me out on a date?"

"Yes."

"But weren't you angry with me?"

"Yes."

"But—then why?" I stared at him. There was absolutely no way this was happening. Wasn't I yelling at him? Wasn't he yelling back? Hadn't I insulted him? What insane notion was this now?

"Why are you trying to understand?" he asked me quietly. I noticed his hand was still on my arm and he wasn't pulling away. In fact, he was pulling me closer. "So will you come?"

"Er, sorry, I can't," I said quickly, pulling my arm out of his grasp. "I have to stalk somebody that day."

"If you didn't want to go, you could have just said so," said Cedric, sounding disappointed.

"Oh, no, I'm serious. My friend wants to snog this boy Brian Clifford or something—"

"You mean Brian Cinderford, the third year?"

"Sure. Yeah. Him. Anyway, she wants me to stalk him all day and assess him as a boy, friend, and boyfriend."

"Why?" asked Cedric.

"I don't know," I said helplessly. "She wants it to be special and all that. Personally, I don't really care either way. There isn't much difference between boys these days."

And with that, I left him behind and walked up to the castle. Later, I would have to thank Ginny numerous times for her task. Maybe even make her some treacle tart, her favorite dessert.

And by 'make,' I of course mean go to the kitchens and get the elves to make me some.

**A/N:** So I was happy to kind of take a break from Harry and all the regular drama in the book and expand into the life Nicci leads outside being with the trio. I think I'll have more chapters like this.

Don't worry, she doesn't get with Cedric, canon isn't broken.

Of course, I didn't have my book, so there wasn't much I could write moving forward in the book itself.

Next chapter will be the First Task and Alecta's First Task. I don't know, I don't like the Past thing very much, that might become a bit more rare. You'll hear about it from Alecta, though, so...

Heheheheh, Alecta is so evil. I love her.


	25. Chapter 23: Stalking and Snogging

**Chapter 23: Stalking and Snogging Don't Share the Same Wagon**

**Alecta:**

"Nicci? Nicci? Nicci!"

I looked up from my plate of wilting mashed potatoes to see Hermione glaring at me. "What is it?" I asked.

"Are you coming tomorrow?"

"Yes," I said, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Something about Hogsmeade. "Oh, wait. No. I can't."

Hermione glared at me some more. "Nicci, what are our plans for tomorrow?"

"Um, I don't know, but I can't go," I said apologetically. "Sorry."

"Why not?" asked Harry.

"I'm spending time with Ginny," I said, cleverly avoiding the whole 'stalking her maybe-boyfriend' part.

"Well, then, invite her too," said Hermione crossly.

Damn, I hadn't seen that one coming. "I can't. We can't. We have—er—very _specific_ plans that don't involve going to any of the places you're going. Probably." Unless Brian Cinderford decided he was going to one of the places they were going, in which case…well, we'd cross that bridge when we got to it.

"So, Harry, have you learned anything about the first task yet?" I asked, knowing perfectly well it was dragons and also knowing perfectly well that there was no way he could know since the dragons had not yet arrived.

"No," he said sullenly, turning back to his dinner.

I mouthed 'How's Ron?' to Hermione who shook her head. 'Is he going?' I mouthed.

"Erm, not officially," she said quietly to me.

"Ah," I said, smiling slightly. "Sneaky."

"I thought I'd tell him once it's too late to change his mind," she admitted sheepishly, glancing down the long table to Ron, who was sitting with Fred, George, and Lee.

I saw her worry, so I said, "Things'll smooth over. They're best friends. I guarantee it."

Hermione smiled at me. "Did you see that in your visions?"

"No," I grumbled. "I didn't realize how much I'd miss the damn things until I stopped getting them every week, broken arms or not. Do you know how weird it is waking up on Sundays without being in pain?"

Hermione gave me a look. "It must be awful, Nicci."

"It is," I muttered defensively.

Harry, who had either ignored or not heard our entire conversation, stood up and grabbed his bag. "I'm going to be bed," he said sullenly. "'Night."

"'Night," said Hermione.

"Goodnight, Harry," I told him. After I watched him go, I turned back to Hermione and said, "He's depressed. I hate depressed people, especially since it's usually me who's depressed."

"He's not depressed, Nicci, he's just tired. And as for you, you're never depressed. At least, not anymore. Speaking of which, Nicci," she added, her impatient tone turning to a happier softer tone, "I'm really glad you've changed so much. You're a lot different then you were last year—happier and more free."

I smiled at her. It was times like these you were truly glad that Hermione was so perceptive and so much more eloquent than anyone else you knew. "Thanks," I told her honestly, smiling brightly.

"All right, then," she said, grabbing a piece of pie as the desserts appeared. "Tell me, Nicci. What are you actually doing tomorrow?"

* * *

The next day, Ginny woke me up. Again. I tried to roll over, away from her voice, but, as it turned out, I was right next to the edge this time.

"ARRGGHHH!"

"Nicci, screaming isn't going to get you anywhere."

"I landed on my elbow, you—you—" It was then that I realized that I had yet to come up with an arsenal of insults for Ginny. Damn.

"Are you all right?" asked Lavender Brown, coming out of the bathroom, already dressed in make-up, a skirt, and a nice shirt. "What happened?"

"She fell," said Parvati from her bed, where she was putting on lipstick. "She isn't a morning person."

Lavender snorted. "Well, she might not be, but her hair is." She looked at me accusingly. "Why is it that you do not have any bed-head whatsoever?"

"Because my hair likes me," I replied cuttingly.

Lavender looked offended, but Parvati laughed. "Don't worry, Lavender. You should know not to take anything she says seriously until 9 AM."

I yelped. "It's not 9 yet?"

"Nicci, it's only 8:15."

I could have killed Ginny Weasley right then and there and not even felt guilty about it. Well, that is, until I woke up fully. Then I would have felt a bit guilty.

Only a bit, mind you.

Ginny, obviously unaware that I was planning her untimely death, walked to my dresser and started rifling through it.

"I'm perfectly capable of choosing my own clothes, you know," I told her crossly, getting back on my bed and sitting on it like a six-year-old and not a thousand-and-fourteen-year-old.

"Yes, you can, but you won't," said Ginny, taking out a shirt and throwing it at me. "You'll wear baggy sweatpants and a ripped shirt just to annoy and embarrass me because you're angry that I woke you up early, and I refuse to let that happen because I do want to have some sort of social standing."

Damn. How was it possible that anyone knew me that well? I peered at her suspiciously. "Are you sure you're not a mind reader? Or Hermione in disguise?"

Ginny giggled, but then said, "Nicci, Hermione is sleeping in the bed next to you."

I looked. She was. Damn.

"Here," Ginny finally said, throwing a skirt at me. I groaned. I hated skirts.

"Hey, I'm wearing a skirt and I hate them," snapped Ginny. "You can suffer through it for one day."

"Yeah, but I'm not trying to get a boyfriend," I muttered darkly before looked at her. She had let her hair down, the red falling down past her shoulders, with a black clip holding her bangs back. Her short-sleeved shirt was white with a golden pattern in the bottom left corner, and her skirt was black and almost to her knees. "Hey, you look really _preeetty_," I said, emphasizing the 'pretty' to make her mad. She didn't like being called pretty because it sounded to her like she was being called girly and she hated being called girly.

She blushed and glared at me. "Shut up."

"No, she's right, Ginny," said Parvati looking over. "You look really pretty. Much more girly than usual."

"Thanks," she said, but I knew she was furious. _Serves you right, Weasley._

I tossed my black hair over my shoulder. "I'll be right back, Ginny," I said lightly, smiling brighter than ever, before dancing over to the bathrooms with a burst of energy caused by my exacted revenge.

"I despise you, Nicci Lonsen."

* * *

In Hogsmeade an hour later, Ginny dragged me into The Three Broomsticks and got some butterbeer. After we sat down, I said, "Aren't we supposed to be stalking someone?"

"No, he probably won't get here for another hour or so," she said casually, taking a sip. I stared at her.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," she said. "So I wanted to ask you—do you know anything about the Tri-Wizard Tournament?"

I nearly spit out my butterbeer. "Huh?"

"Well, you've lived with ghosts, right?" said Ginny. "They must have told you something about the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"Well, that doesn't mean I paid attention," I told her, confused. I never knew she would care about the tournament. I could always tell her about my own tournament, but I might slip into first-person by accident, and all the others I never bothered going to.

"Oh." She looked disappointed, so I gave in. "All right, they did tell me about one," I lied. "The very first Tri-Wizard Tournament. A thousand years ago."

"The first?" she said, looking at me. "Weren't the records of the Tournament lost? So you could be the only person alive who knows what happened!"

"They're not lost," I said crossly. "They're all just looking in the wrong place. See, the Tri-Wizard Tournament was originally called the Inter-School Championship."

Ginny cocked her head. "What? Why?"

"Because there were originally four schools who took part in the championship," I told her. "Four champions. The four schools were Beauxbaxtons, Durmstrang, Hogwarts, and Whittlewhie."

"Wait," said Ginny. "What happened to Whittlewhie?"

"Well, they were banned from the tournament after their contestant tried to kill the Hogwarts contestant in the Third Task. The three schools continued to call it the Inter-School Championnship until about 800 or so years ago when they changed it to the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I think the school itself collapsed about 200 hundred years after they were banned from the tournament."

"So who were the first four champions?" asked Ginny, looking interested.

"Well, for Hogwarts it was a thirteen-year-old girl named Alecta Gryffindor," I said, trying to disguise the churn of despair I felt when I spoke my own name like it was someone else's.

"Godric Gryffindor's daughter?"

I nodded. "She was very talented for her age. She was a lot like Hermione, but a lot less responsible. And she didn't really enjoy reading books." I shrugged. "The Beauxbaxtons champion was Jacque Nox, a sixteen-year-old. Shy and clever and very noble. I—er—that is say, Alecta liked him. The Durmstrang champion was Anthony Gregon, who was seventeen. As for Whittlewhie, they had a contestant named Alexander Postus." I growled a little. "He was a terrible person. Stupid and incredibly strong. He was also extraordinarily bold, which wasn't always a good thing.

Anyway, the first task was that each contestant had to fight a dragon and take a golden egg from it, which held a clue to the second task."

"So how did a thirteen-year-old get past a dragon?" said Ginny, looking horrified.

"Well, Nox used a Conjectus Curse and hit the dragon in the eye, the weakest spot on a dragon. Postus tried to do the same, but he missed, and stung the dragon in the nose, which got the dragon mad. He ended up having to use a combination spell between his wand and his fist and knocked out the dragon. Powerful, but dangerous on the body. He was lucky to get out alive. They don't exist anymore," I said to Ginny, who had opened her mouth, "all the books were burned in the fires of Rome."

"And Gregon?"

"Gregon transfigured a rock into a mouse, then illusioned it to make it look like himself," I recounted, rolling my eyes. "While the dragon was eating his replica, he went around and took the egg."

"And what about Gryffindor? What did she do?"

"Well, Alecta was a Fire-Tamer."

"Hmm? A what?"

"They're extinct now," I said sadly. _That is, extinct except for me._ "It was why Alecta was considered a prodigy. Not because she was exceptional, but because she was a Fire-Tamer. Apart from that, she was just like anyone else who knew how to study and practice."

"What is a Fire-Tamer?" asked Ginny quizzically.

"A Fire-Tamer is someone who is immune to fire. They can create fire out of thin air and can will it to do their bidding. It's quite special and they were very rare. Alecta's father was one too. It's why the Gryffindor colors are red and gold."

Ginny looked astonished. "Fire?"

I nodded. "Fire."

"Well, what happened?"

"The dragon couldn't touch Alecta. The fire was of no use and Alecta, who _was_ very adept at using fire as a weapon, beat it down until she defeated it and took the egg."

"Wow," said Ginny, looking thoughtful. "She really was incredible, wasn't she? What happened next?"

"Ginny," I said plaintively, "I can't tell you until after the first task is over."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Well, because the tasks don't change," I told her. "It's why there are no books describing the Tri-Wizard Tournaments in the library. If people knew what tasks there were in the past, it'd be a guideline.

"Wait…you mean Harry's going to have to fight a dragon?"

I nodded.

"Nicci!" cried Ginny. "You have to tell him!"

"I can't," I said. "Dumbledore said I couldn't tell any of the champions." Actually, he'd asked if I wouldn't, but I couldn't tell _her_ that.

Ginny sighed, but let it drop. I wondered why she was being so understanding, until I looked at the door and saw Brian Cinderford and a couple of his friends entering.

Of course.

* * *

_Four_ hours later, I was ready to kill Ginny. _I_ was watching Cinderford buy _robes_ while _Ginny_ was in Honeydukes with two of her friends.

I was going to murder her.

"Er, Nicci?"

I jumped. "Diggory! Hi."

"Why are you hiding behind a wagon?" he asked pointedly.

"Erm…because—I have a perfectly good explanation, I…" He arched an eyebrow. "…just have to think of it."

He laughed. He had a nice laugh, I thought, helplessly trying to ignore it and failing miserably. "How are you? Are you really stalking Brian?"

I pointed reluctantly at Brian, who was holding up robes against a mirror. Cedric laughed again. "So, what's your assessment?"

"Well, he's nice enough, he's thoughtful, and he's handsome enough, I suppose, but I don't know. There's something kind of off about him, you know? He's, uh, kind of…I don't know, girly, maybe?"

"Nicci—"

"But, I mean, not that that's a bad thing, but I just don't think that he's the type of guy for Ginny, so I think maybe I'd give him a good grade in general, but he's not really the one for Ginny—"

"Nicci, it's because—"

"But you don't take offense to that, do you? I mean—"

"Nicci!" he cried. He took a deep breath. "Merlin, once you get going, there's no stopping you, is there?"

"I was just trying to get it all out," I muttered sullenly.

"Nicci, he's gay," said Cedric finally, sounding impatient.

"He—what?"

"He's gay. At least, he's going to be gay. He hasn't come out with the news yet, but he confided in me."

"…Oh." Suddenly, I glared at him. "And you couldn't've told me this on Sunday and saved everyone a hell of a lot of trouble why?"

"Well, because…" He looked awkward. "It was a secret and I thought I should keep it."

"So then, why are you telling me now?"

"Er…I thought you deserved to know?"

"Is that a question? As in, you don't know if I deserve it or not?"

"No, I—you—of course you do," he said, looking flustered.

"So what's changed?"

"What?"

"What's changed between Sunday and today?" I asked, annoyed. Cedric was not giving me answers. What was the matter with him? He was blushing and a little sweaty— "Oh my God, are you sick?"

"What?"

"Sick. Are You?"

"No! I just—" He grabbed my hand. "Can…Can I—?"

"Nicci!" It was George, walking out of Zonko's. He waved, saw Cedric, and frowned a little. "Er, did I miss something?"

"No," I said, my face turning red as I pulled my hand out of Cedric's. Why did George always have to do that? Merlin, why was my face all flushed? Now I looked like Cedric!

Had he gotten me sick?

_Please tell me that after a thousand years you're not actually this clueless._

Oh no, not you. I really hate you.

_'Has he gotten me sick?' What the hell's the matter with you?_

Nothing! I just—oh, go away. I don't actually think he got me sick.

_Not anymore._

…Shut it.

"Um, I have to go find Ginny," I said, pulling away from Cedric, crashing into George, and moving carefully away from both. "Now."

"But, Nicci, I—" Cedric looked like he had something to say.

"I'll talk to you later," I interrupted him, turning even redder as I looked at George's confused face. "Much later. I have to go. Now."

And I turned around and ran away.

"So, Nicci, how'd it go?" asked Ginny as we walked back to Hogwarts. "Here, I got you some Sugar Quills."

"Thanks," I said, before realizing that it was most likely my money she had used so really, I had got her something. "With Cinderford? It wouldn't work out."

She looked disappointed. "Really, Nicci? Are you sure?"

"Positive," I said. "I'm really sorry, I just don't think it'll work out. At all."

She sighed, obviously upset. "All right. I didn't _really_ like him, anyway."

I was going to murder Ginny Weasley.

* * *

**A/N:** Never fall into depression. Depression sucks. _Being_ depressed sucks. Not being able go on your e-mail for fear of seeing a review which will make you feel even guiltier then you already do but you are unable to do anything about because you're effing depressed sucks even more.

Er, hi.

Am I rambling? I think I am.

And I think now's the time I apologize again.


	26. Chapter 24: Lessons of the Heart

**Chapter 24: Lessons of the Heart and Painful Death**

**Alecta:**

"Thank you for visiting me, you lousy, rotten Gryffindor."

I sat up straight in bed and looked around. There, sitting at the edge of my bed with a murderous expression on her face, was Hailey Hufflepuff.

"What the hell?" I hissed, reaching out to poke her to see if she was a dream. Hailey slapped my hand away with a scowl.

"You idiot, it's me, Erised," she snapped at me.

I paused and looked at her. "…Were you always this grumpy?"

She opened her mouth, considered, and closed it again, her expression softening. "You sound different."

"I—huh?"

"Happier. Lighter. It's good to hear."

"Er…where did that come from?"

She smiled at me, her entire attitude changing. "Just observing."

I felt like I'd just received verbal whiplash for the first time. "You wouldn't happen to be bi-polar, would you?"

As if to prove my point, her face deepened into a scowl and she began beating on me with fists. Thankfully Erised wasn't that strong. (Neither was Hailey, for that matter.) "Ow," I said in confusion. "What have I done now, Erised?"

"Haven't, Alecta, haven't," cried Erised. I thanked my lucky stars that Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati were all heavy sleepers. "It's what you _haven't_ done. As in, you _haven't _visited me, you _haven't_ told me what's causing all of this commotion, and you most certainly_ haven't _improved your social life."

I glared at her. "Really, _that's_ the most important task I've neglected to perform in your book?"

"I don't have a book, Alecta. Do you know why I don't have a book?"

"Er, because you can't read?"

"No! Well, yes, but no. It's because _you have not visited me_!"

"I see I'm not the only one who's come out of her shell," I said quietly, rubbing my knee where she's punched me.

Erised ignored me. "So what is going on, Alecta?"

"The Tri-Wizard Tournament," I sighed, grabbing my cloak as I headed for the stairway.

Erised gave me an odd look. "Where are you going?"

"I don't fancy thinking up an explanation as to why a girl who looks different to each person is sitting on my bed at three in the morning, do you?"

Erised chuckled sheepishly. "Oh. Well, all right then."

By the time we'd reached the room where her mirror was kept, I had confided with her all the odd happenings that had begun this year at Hogwarts. As I spoke, Erised (who had somehow managed to switch back to her original appearance) took on the shrewd, calculating look that confirmed my hidden suspicions that something was not right, not at all.

"I almost can't believe I'm saying this," I finished, almost breathless for talking, "but I almost miss my visions. I least then I knew what was going on. I find I despise being in the dark like this."

Erised sighed, all traces of humor vanishing from her face. "Alecta, do you know _why_ the Council took those visions away from you?"

"Er, because they didn't want me waking every last person in Hogwarts every Saturday night?"

"No."

I stared at her. "No? But that's what Hailey—"

"She lied to you."

Now _there_ was something I hadn't seen coming. "Hailey can lie? I didn't think it was possible."

"Being a Hufflepuff doesn't make one incapable of lying," snapped Erised. _Yes, _I thought,_ definitely bi-polar._

"But, then, why would she lie?" I finally said. I knew that this was the question Erised had wanted me to ask, as opposed to a wise-ass comment in what was very clearly an inappropriate situation. Huh. Now that I thought about it, before coming to Hogwarts, I couldn't even remember the last time I'd made a wise-ass comment. How odd…

"It's because you're no longer immortal," Erised responded.

…What? "What does being immortal have to do with—"

"Alecta, you're a genius. Use your head. The truth is, you're human again. You're not immortal any longer. When you were immortal, you were like a god."

"Wait, wait, wait. God?"

"_Like_ a God, Alecta. What I mean is, before you were human, before you came to Hogwarts, you were soul-less. You killed people in cold blood, never thinking, never caring. Invincible, unstoppable, immortal."

"God-like," I murmured. This was beginning to make sense. "So you mean…"

"You are now just like any other human here," said Erised. Ouch. That stung. "Significantly older, of course, and quite a bit more powerful due to your experience and skill, but human. You are no longer able to wield god-like gifts, so the council is slowly taking it away. Come seventeen, you will no longer see the future at all."

I blinked. That damned Hufflepuff certainly hadn't mentioned _that_ little fact.

"Why didn't anyone tell me this before?" I said calmly. Somehow, knowing made me less frustrated, which in turn created endless amounts of confusion.

Erised sighed again. "Those bumbling idiots had no idea how, I'm afraid. Just fifty years ago, you would have devised some way to destroy them and everything they cared about. They would never admit it, but they were a bit afraid of you back then."

"I was never terrifying!"

"I'm afraid you were, Alecta. Riding around with your little dragon friends, fighting wars, killing thousands of people. Your clothes and arms would be stained red with the blood of the people you'd slaughtered and you'd walk around without a care in the world."

I closed my eyes and swallowed, feeling a bit sick. All of that; I remembered it as if it were another lifetime ago. The memories had grown fainter.

Just how much had I changed?

"Some parts of your old, immortal self still show themselves at times. For example, in Mad-Eye Moody's classroom?" I nodded mutely. "However, remember last year? You saved Ron Weasley from the werewolf, Remus Lupin. And yet, you did not kill Lupin. You hardly even injured him." Erised gave me a piercing stare that reminded me all at once that Erised was over ten-thousand years old. As old as greed. And as old as desire. "Now why is that?"

"But how did you know that?" I found myself asking her. "How in Merlin's name did you know what went on beside what I've told you?"

Erised laughed. "You idiot, how many times have I told you? I am desire. I can appear as anything that man has _ever_ desired. That's a load of appearances."

Damn, I really had forgotten that. "So, simply put, I'm human now and…wow. That's quite the load of information you've dropped."

She laughed again. This time, it was affectionate. "I forgot how snarky your human soul was."

"Being immortal doesn't make me soul-less, mind you."

"Being immortal does make you soul-less, Alecta. It also makes you _clue_less. For example, Saturday: 'Oh my God, are you sick?'" It was a perfect imitation of my voice and it made me a bit uncomfortable.

"Erm, you said you can take the appearance of anything man has desired, right?" I said, my voice quavering. These were dangerous waters I was sailing into. Very unfamiliar territory. "No men have ever…desired me, right?"

And just like that, the powerful, all-knowing, ten-thousand-year-old Erised was gone and was replaced by the annoyed, exasperated Erised. "You're joking, right?"

"Uh…no?"

"Obviously, you're _hope_less as well as clueless," she sighed. Her ability to switch personalities so fast was even more frightening then the fact that I was rapidly losing all I'd ever known about my _own_ personality. It must be something magical, as that was the only explanation I was willing to hear. Maybe some blokes 'desired' a personality swap?

I'd have to research that…

"What does that mean?" I asked, pulling myself away from my thought process.

"Alecta, men have desired you since you were about twelve years old."

"Oh, disgusting," I said, shaking my head rapidly. I'd despised young marriage when I'd been human a thousand-years ago. Now, I despised it even more. "Didn't everyone, you know, hate me because I was a crazy psychopath who killed everyone?"

"Yes, well, some people become stupid in the face of love and beauty." She gave me a look. "Like you."

Uh-oh. This couldn't be good. "What, me?"

"Yes, you! What about Cedric Diggory?"

I flushed. "We're only friends."

Erised shook her head. "If you think that's true, you're alone in your thinking."

"Well, he did…" I groaned. "I'm an idiot, aren't I?"

"At least you're capable of admitting it," muttered Erised. "Why?"

"He…erm, that is…he might have maybe asked me out on a date."

"And you didn't pick up on that?"

"…No, not really."

"How on Earth do you get out of bed in the morning?"

"I don't," I grumbled. "I get pushed."

"And what about George Weasley?"

I froze. How in hell did she know about him? "Er, there's definitely nothing going on there. Nothing, nothing at all." Even as I said it, I felt the blush creep up my neck, a sure-fire sign that nothing good could come from sticking around. He caused twisting, churning feelings in my stomach that I should probably recognize, but didn't, since I had about as much romantic experience as a rock. Besides, talking about him always made me feel uncomfortable. "Well, there's definitely nothing else to talk about, so I'm going to go up to bed and try to retain my last few hours of sleep. I'll visit, Erised." With that, I spun around and marched out the door before breaking into a run and sprinting to the Common Room.

I didn't notice Erised's smile, which, unfortunately for me, very clearly said, _'Nothing, my ass.'_

* * *

The morning of the first task, I woke up, yawned, and rolled over to look at my clock. It was 11:30.

Whoops.

Why the hell hadn't Ginny woken me up?

And why the hell wasn't my alarm clock set?

Oh, that was right. I'd gotten so used to Ginny waking me up that I didn't even bother setting my alarm clock in the morning.

Double whoops.

Ergh, McGonagall was going to skin me alive!

No, wait a second. _I _was the heir of Gryffindor, _I_ would be the victor of that particular duel!

The words sounded half-hearted even in my own head. Being human was awful sometimes. I mean, it was amazing sometimes too, like when I found myself staring at my breakfast and _not_ running through a list of ways I could kill everyone and make an escape. It was odd now, knowing that my personality was changing and I really had no control over it. Not knowing, I hadn't even noticed the difference or tried to think about it. Knowing, I felt as if everything I did surprised me in some way.

I'd attempted to force myself to run through the list two mornings after Erised and I had talked. I'd also nearly lost my breakfast halfway through.

How had I done that?

Oh no—Harry!

It was the First Task today, with the dragons and everything, and I'd been so wrapped up in my own issues that I'd completely forgotten about his!

I was such an awful friend. I hoped Hermione was a better one. I hoped they'd come up with a strategy—

But what if they hadn't? If he died today it was all my fault because I was an awful person with selfish revelations and mirrors that came to life in order to screw around with _my_ life because I was _such_ a bad person that I hadn't even thought about anyone else—

Had I ever mentally ranted before? How odd, I don't think I have.

Oh, Merlin, I was useless. And clueless. And hopeless. Erised was right.

I put on my robes, grabbed my bag, and ran out the door, down the stairs, and—

Directly into George Weasley. Of course. Because everyone just hated me today.

Well, this week.

Actually, if I put some thought into it, it was more my entire life.

Had I always been this off-in-space?

"Sorry," George said his way, which gave off the impression that he wasn't at all sorry. "Er, Nicci, why aren't you in class?"

"I…slept in," I finally admitted, looking down at my bag. "A little." He began laughing. "But it wasn't my fault! It's Ginny's for not waking me up!" He was still laughing. "Oh, forget it, you git. Good-bye." I spun around and stomped out of the

"Hey! Nicci, hold on!"

A minute later, I found myself walking out the Common Room with one of the Weasley twins.

Merlin, help me. Or smite me. I don't particularly care which. This was very dangerous territory I was now on the borderline of.

"So," George began, obviously unaware of my panicked, half-delusional thoughts, "you and Diggory, huh?" He seemed to be trying to keep the disgust out of his voice. He wasn't doing very well.

"Er, no," I said. "Not at all."

"Nicci," he said patronizingly, "usually, when a boy and a girl are behind a wagon, holding hands, about to snog, there is something going on." He appeared too annoyed to make a joke. This was bad. I had unofficially, unfortunately, and a bit too innocently found my way into a love triangle.

I mean, I thought it was a love triangle. There were three points in a triangle and three of us…but that didn't really make much sense. Why compare a concept to an object?

This was most likely another one of those things I should have learned as opposed to How to Ally Yourself With an Unlikable Dragon. I really was hopeless.

By the time we found ourselves in the Great Hall, we were already late to lunch. This was because we kept stopping in the middle of the corridors to argue a point. We would then begin walking again, at which point we would find something new to argue about, thus beginning the cycle again. By the time we were standing at the doors, he was no more convinced that I wasn't in some sort of secret relationship with Diggory then I was that I was _ever_ going to be in a successful relationship (or that I wanted to be in one). After entering, George and I split up, George heading over to where Ron was sitting and me finding Hermione among the crowd of people.

Oh no. Where was Harry? I'd missed him, hadn't I?

"Nicci, there you are!" cried Hermione walking up the aisle with an expression that somehow combined fury and impatience into one. "Where have you _been_? Harry's gone to get ready and you're so late and—"

"I know, I know," I said sorrowfully. "I feel so awful. I've been useless this week, haven't I?"

"No, not completely," said Hermione. "You helped Harry with the Summoning Charm, didn't you?"

"What?" I said. Yes, I'd helped him with Summoning Charms Wednesday and Thursday nights with Hermione. "Of course, but how much good does that do against dragons?"

"You know about the dragons?" Hermione hissed.

"Of course, why wouldn't—" Oh. I wasn't supposed to know, was I? "Er, I snuck into the Forbidden Forest that night. I heard Hagrid talking to Professor Moody about the First Task, so I thought I might go and see what it was." That part I hadn't been lying about. While I was searching for Ginny after stalking Cinderford, I'd heard them talking about the First Task. Of course, I'd heard nothing about the Forbidden Forest. I did know enough to know that the dragons would be kept there. After all, that was where they had kept them in the very first Tri-Wizard Tournament.

"Oh?" Hermione looked surprised. "Harry was there too, did you see him?"

"No, I was under my Invisibility Cloak the whole time and I suppose he was too. I saw Hagrid a couple of times. He must have been there."

She looked appeased, but not in any way approving. "Well, we should go down to the grounds. Shall we?"

I nodded.

* * *

"Nicci! Hermione!" As we sat down in our seats, I heard a familiar cry. Ginny.

"You," I hissed.

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "What's she done now? Did she wake you up again?"

"No," I said. "The opposite. She _didn't_." Ginny was smiling innocently now. "It's why I was late this morning."

Hermione stifled a giggle. "You despise it when she wakes you, you hate it when she doesn't…are you ever pleased, Nicci?"

"Yes," I said defensively. "I—"

"Hey, Ron!" said Ginny, saving me from giving an answer Hermione would cut down in a matter of moments. Apparently, lying on the spot was a "god-like gift" as well.

"Hey," he muttered, taking a seat next to Hermione.

"You came?" I said, surprised. I thought his anger at Harry would have stopped him from coming. "You came. Good. Otherwise, I might have had to kill you."

Ginny and Hermione laughed. Ron didn't.

A whistle blew from the stadium where the judges were sitting. "It's beginning," Ginny whispered unnecessarily. "Merlin, I hope Harry beats this dragon."

"He'll be all right," I replied quietly. I saw her relax visibly. There was a time and place to tell her that I could hardly see the future anymore, and this most certainly was not it.

Cedric Diggory walked out of the Champion's Tent and the task began. _Please don't die on me,_ I thought hopelessly. _Then I'll feel awful about being so naïve for the rest of my life._

The Swedish Short-Snout immediately shot fire at Cedric and he just barely dodged out of the way. "Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow!" cried Ludo Bagman, who I supposed was doing commentary. After about five minutes of running and dodging, Cedric pointed his wand at a boulder on the ground and used nonverbal magic. Almost subconsciously, I leaned forward in my seat. What was he doing? All the magic I could think of using on a boulder against a dragon was far past the level of a seventh year.

The next moment, my jaw dropped. A dog. He'd turned a boulder into a dog. Dear Merlin, what the hell was he thinking? "He's taking risks, this one!" cried Bagman.

_Oh, shut up, you're of no help._ I was about ready to chuck Bagman out a window.

The dragon appeared to be fooled. That's right, I'd forgotten: Swedish Short-Snouts were the stupidest of the bunch. Of course it would fall for that. There were seven types of dragons usually used in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. If I had to hazard a guess, based on the placement of the school and the time of year, adding in the most likely rushed order, I would say they had chosen the Chinese Fireball, the Welsh Green, and…maybe a Norwegian Ridgeback? No, this was the wrong season for Ridgebacks, who usually hibernated in fall and winter. Then it would have to be a Hungarian Horntail. Nasty pieces of work those were.

A deafening roar filled the stadium. Oh, so he'd gotten the egg, had he? I cheered alongside Ginny and Hermione. Swedish Short-Snouts were definitely the stupidest of the lot.

"What dragon next?" Ginny whispered to me. "Can you tell?"

I heard another dragon roar. "Welsh Green," I said confidently. "Definitely Welsh Green."

The next two candidates passed in a blur: I couldn't bring myself to care about them. Harry was last, which meant…Oh, God. For the first time in years, I couldn't help but hope that I was dead wrong. I looked down at Ron. He was tense and white and fearful. "No," I heard him mutter under his breath as Fleur's markings appeared. "Oh, no…"

So he'd come round, had he?

The whistle blew and I was on the edge of my seat again, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, right beside me. Harry walked out, his eyes glazed, but also somehow focused. He had amazing natural instinct, something that had taken me nearly three-hundred years to learn. What was he going to do? Would it work? Merlin, Harry, if it doesn't work, I'll skin you alive.

Harry raised his wand and shouted, "_Accio Firebolt_!"

No. _No._ There was no possible—

I looked at Hermione, who gave me a nervous smile. Her hands were clutching her face, the nails digging into her cheeks. She might seem cool and collected, I said to myself, but she was just as panicked as I was. "I did say that you had helped, Nicci."

Ron appeared to be having a panic attack in his seat. His eyes were focused on the dragon, but they kept on flicking to Harry and back again. He seemed about ready to be sick.

And there was his broom, moving toward him, and he had jumped on it and he was off— "Brilliant," I sighed as Harry kicked off. Ginny and Hermione were cheering, Ginny blushing, Hermione's nails still clutching her face even as she yelled, and some of the color returned to Ron's face.

Harry was an amazing flier. I knew that, but today he was really outdoing himself. He spun and wove and dodged around the dragon so fast and so neatly that I don't think I could've done it. I did notice, however, that as soon as he was in the air, his face cleared. It was if he wasn't doing rather than really thinking, muscle memory over strategy—

He really was absolutely astonishing. Harry seemed to perform best under stressful settings as opposed to controlled ones. Natural talent. Really, truly incredible. He had used diversionary tactics from the Quidditch field, applied them to the situation at hand and adapted them to the dragon's size and abilities, all while avoiding getting killed. Although, if I asked him about it later, I don't think he would've realized just what he was doing. He wasn't _thinking_, was he? It was pure gut and it was working extraordinarily well.

By forcing the dragon to get off her nest and chase him, she had given him a split-second opportunity to get down and take the egg and—he'd done it! He'd seen it as well! And Bagman was yelling, and everyone was cheering, and before I knew it, I was up on my feet shrieking and screaming and hugging Ginny and laughing with Hermione, who was jumping up and down with Ron, who looked like death warmed over, but was also hoarsely yelling encouragement to his best friend.

Ron and Hermione took off for the tents where Harry was sure to be going. After a glance at Ginny and an exchanged smile, I ran after them. Even through the exhilaration of a Tri-Wizard Tournament and the pounding clapping that seemed to override everything else, I couldn't help but think, _You really are Lily and James's son, aren't you, Harry?_

When we reached the tent, Harry was walking out. Hermione got there first. Breathless and squeaky from all the screaming, she cried, "Harry, you were amazing! You really were!"

I grinned at him, and then laughed. It came out choked. "You were absolutely _brilliant_! I'm so glad you're all right!"

Harry was looking at Ron, who was still exceedingly pale. "Harry," said Ron, very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet—I—I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

My smile widened. If Ron hadn't come around after that, I had no idea what Hermione and I would've done.

"Caught on, have you?" Harry said viciously. Uh-oh. I glanced at Hermione nervously, who looked like she was going to keel over. "Took you long enough."

Ron opened his mouth. _Oh, thank God, he's going to apologize._

But Harry cut in. "It's okay," he said, the beginnings of a grin forming on his face. "Forget it."

"No, I shouldn't've—"

"_Forget it_," said Harry.

Ron grinned carefully at Harry, and Harry thankfully smiled back.

Hermione then burst into tears. Harry and Ron both looked bewildered, and, being boys, I couldn't blame them. "Hermione, there's nothing to cry about!" said Harry.

"You two are so _stupid_!" she cried (literally), stamping her foot. With tears running down her face, she squeezed them both into hugs and then ran off, now not only sobbing, but howling.

I sighed. "I suppose that's my cue to go after her," I said, gesturing with my finger in the direction she'd gone. Both boys still looked confused. "See you both up at the Common Room." I patted them on the shoulders. "Well done, boys."

* * *

Two nights later, I found myself in the Common Room, staring at the fire with nothing else to do. It was hard to waste a ton of time on homework on events you were present or spells you'd been using for centuries.

Ginny came in, plopped into the chair next to me, and sighed. "Argh, what a night. I hate research night."

I looked at her essay. "Er, Ginny? The war with Bulgaria of 1578 was won by an unknown ally leading a force of Norwegian Ridgebacks, not Chinese Fireballs. And it was Alexandris the Aggressive that made himself a public enemy of the Wizengamot in 1579, not Golfrid the Greedy."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "You're joking."

"No," I said.

"Damn," she muttered, pulling out her quill.

I watched her, playing with a piece of my hair. And then it struck me. A brilliant idea. Not only would it stop my vicious boredom cycle, but it was also an intelligent plan for the future. The truth was, without my visions, I didn't know what was coming next. So, why not plan ahead and—

"Hey, Ginny, how would you like it if I taught you defensive and offensive spells this year?"

She almost dropped her book. "What?"

"I thought I might teach you some of the more handy spells I've learned on the battlefield," I explained. "It'll be good for you, and as you might not know, all things in magic are related. By learning spells, you learn their origins, creators…which brings you to History of Magic, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts…"

"Well, I—" Ginny looked at me. "I suppose, if you really want to…but nothing lethal, and nothing Unforgivable, right?"

"Of course not," I cried. "You're thirteen!"

"You're fourteen, and you know it," she grumbled at me.

I shrugged. "Yes, I suppose. But these'll just be simple duel moves."

Ginny smiled brightly. A bit too brightly, if you ask me. "All right, then. What first?"

"Well, I thought that first I might teach you a brilliantly amusing little spell…it's known as the Bat-Bogey Hex."

**A/N:** And that is how it happened!

Well, actually, I have no idea how Ginny learned the spells in the, you know, actual book, but here, _that is how she learned it, damn it!_

Disclaimer (because I haven't done it recently): I don't own Harry Potter. Or its characters. But you already knew that.

Thank you for the amazing reviews, you guys, I love you very, very much and I thank you greatly. I don't think I've ever actually asked you for reviews because I see those stories where people are like, "REVIEW! REVIEW AND I'LL GIVE YOU A COOKIE! REVIEW, DAMN IT!" and it kind of freaks me out, but if you have anything to say, go ahead and say it, even if its some random, crazed, 4-in-the-morning rant, because honestly, I think half of my reviews are those already and they're amazingly better than some stiff, sensible note. RANTS ARE AMAZING!

Speaking of which...*looks up at previous paragraph*...

Heh...truth is, I forgot about Erised, like Nicci, which is why she hasn't shown up in the 4th Book yet...

Oops.


	27. Chapter 25: It'll Be Fun

**Chapter 25: 'It'll Be Fun' and Other Foul Lies**

**Alecta:**

"Oh, dear."

"That doesn't even cut it," muttered Ron sorrowfully. I looked at the expression on his face and almost managed a smile. "Don't smile, Nicci. For all we know, we might not make it to see tom orrow."

My smile faded. "Thank you, Ron."

"Would you two _pay attention_?" snapped Hermione. "If you don't focus, you'll get yourselves hurt."

"Bollocks," I groaned. "I _hate_ skrewts."

For that was what we were stuck doing on this fine December day. Of course, I'd handled Flesh-Eating Skrewts before, but I'd always aimed to kill...and I wasn't quite sure that would work this time.

"Nicci, would you – _help_?" Hermione shrieked at me.

"What? Oh. Sorry. _Flagrate!_" The black burns etched into the skin of the skrewt, and, wailing, it fell backwards, landing with a thump.

"Yeh killed it!" cried Hagrid. "Nicci!"

"I haven't killed it!" I responded. I walked to it carefully. "I just...maimed it. Severely. Ouch."

Hagrid grimaced, but turned and hurried towards Ron and Harry, calling, "Don' frighten him, now!"

I sighed and repeated my earlier thoughts, "Oh, dear."

"Nicci, where did you learn that spell?" said Hermione carefully, walking up beside me.

"My father," I said, the lie coming automatically. That spell hadn't even been around when my father was alive.

"Oh." Hermione paused, as though she didn't know exactly how to phrase the question. "Er, Nicci – were your parents really terrible?"

"No."

"So – so why were they teaching you these kinds of spells?"

_Oh, no._ "Well, my mother wasn't bad." Yeah, right. "She came to Hogwarts for a while, you know. Her name was Alexis Findor. Lupin knew her, remember? He called me 'Lexi' when we first met?"

"Well, what happened?"

Thank God for Hailey, who'd forced me to come up with a fake backstory for anyone who asked a lot of questions. "She went back home to Romania. Her father was a dragon-tamer. My father was a dragon-tamer, too. A war broke out between two huge tribes of dragon-tamers. While my parents were fighting, they had me. Never married."

"_Oh_. So _that's _where you found the dragons."

"...Yeah." Actually, I liked Romania and wanted to be from there. That worked too.

"Nicci?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you attack the Ministry?"

The bell rang. As we gathered our things and waited for Harry and Ron, I could vaguely hear Hagrid talking to Rita Skeeter. Hermione, however, was listening intently. "She wants to interview Hagrid?"

"Who?" I asked.

"That Skeeter woman."

"The reporter?"

"Do you know her?"

"Well, she's a moron, but she's a manipulative moron," I answered, thinking of past experiences. "Be careful of her. What is she interviewing Hagrid about?"

"Blast-Ended Skrewts."

"...Oh. That won't end well, not if she really wants something to write about those Blast-Ended Skrewts."

"Oh, no," wailed Hermione. I couldn't've agreed more.

Harry and Ron walked up to us. "Did you hear her?" began Harry angrily. "She'll twist everything he says."

"Just as long as he didn't import those skrewts illegally or anything," argued Hermione. It sounded something like a plea.

"Yes, because Hagrid never does anything of that sort," I said bluntly.

"Hagrid's been in loads of trouble before, and Dumbledore's never sacked him," Ron responded logically. "Worst that can happen is Hagrid'll have to get rid of the skrewts. Sorry...did I say worst? I meant best."

I smiled and Harry and Hermione laughed. "All we can do is hope," I offered.

* * *

"You know what's pathetic, Thaniel? I've no one to write to, or kill, or run away from, so you're living an exceedingly boring life and you're missing me dreadfully, I know, and – and – oh, stuff it, your life is far more exciting than mine and we all know it." I dropped my head onto the stone wall of the Owlery in despair, my pet cat watching me unsympathetically. "I mean, it'd nice here at Hogwarts, and I like it here, I really do, and I've got friends finally, and nobody's trying to kill me or use me or ally themselves with me...it's painfully boring."

Thaniel cocked his head and stared at me.

"Yeah, well, the skrewts don't count because I can't actually kill or hurt them because of Hagrid. And without a real challenge in the near future, even the TriWizard Tournament's gotten dull. D'you think I'm whining?"

If Thaniel could talk, he would've most certainly said something along the lines of 'Well, _duh_.' As it was, he quite clearly conveyed the message with his eyes and ears.

"Oh, shut up. I'm old, but I'm not wise or anything. I mean, last year was pretty exciting, with all the new students and remembering Hogwarts and seeing Hailey and Ben and Erised again, but now I'm _bored._ And the Yule Ball's coming up, and I really don't want to go. You remember the mess I got myself into the first time I went to the Ball?" Thaniel made a huffing sound that sounded a bit too much like laughter for my liking. "It's not funny, you git." I paused for a minute to think, moving to lean my arms against a windowsill and look out at the snow-covered grounds. Thaniel jumped up on the windowsill next to me. "Hey, have you seen anything funny around the castle? I've felt something strange lately, but I can't place it." My cat shook his head. "Really? Nothing? I could swear I've felt _something_..."

Thaniel gave an unappreciative mew and started washing his paws.

"See? Even you've gotten complacent. You'll be fat next." At this, Thaniel hissed and arched, his small body flexed and curved as if to show off his muscles and lack of body fat. "Oh, stuff it, you. At least you're getting some exercise. I'm not immortal or 'god-like' anymore, but I'm still powerful and rather intelligent, and I'm not practicing, or doing anything, or even learning a damn thing. A third of all the magic they're teaching I helped create, another third I learned from the creator himself, and the last third I learned the first time I was mortal or the decade after that."

Thaniel mewled.

"There wasn't _that_ much magic around back then. Merlin, I'm even talking to you about it! Someone needs to come and put me out of my misery."

"Misery? I wasn't aware that you were miserable." The voice behind me nearly had me throwing myself out the window I had so conveniently placed myself near. "You always appear quite happy."

"Ah. Cedric." _When it's not one problem, it's another..._

I'd like to say that I'd put some time and thought into my feelings so that I could stop rendezvous-ing with the feelings of two other blokes, but – er...then I'd be lying. And Alecta Gryffindor does not lie.

All the time.

Just most of the time.

Argh. All right, Alecta Salia Nicola Gryffindor does not lie. Nicci Lonsen, however, lies all the time. In fact, she cannot go ten minutes without lying to someone.

"Hullo, Nicci."

"Fancy seeing you here."

"...In the Owlery?"

_Damn. _"Never mind." I turned to face him. "Er, Cedric, how are you?"

"I'm perfectly all right, thank you for asking," he said politely. "You have a beautiful cat."

"What? Oh, Thaniel?" Thaniel smiled smugly up at me. "Yes. Real charmer, this one."

Cedric laughed. "Right. Well, Nicci, I'd assume you've heard about the Yule Ball?"

"Yes, Professor McGonagall announced it –" Oh. Oh, dear.

"Yes, well, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go with me?"

I stared at him. "To the Yule Ball." He nodded. "With you?" He nodded again. "Oh. Well, I'd love to, but the champions have to dance, and I'm afraid I'm a terrible dancer." I really had to work on my lying. Truth was, I just didn't want to go with him. Too many emotions mixed up into one night.

"You won't go with me because you can't dance?"

He was right. That did sound ridiculous. All right, I suppose the lying Nicci Lonsen will have to take a page from noble, upright, _truthful_ Alecta Gryffindor. "I really just don't want to go with anyone. I'd prefer to go with a friend. I'm terribly sorry, Cedric, but I can't."

"Nicci, you don't think I'm going to be the only person to ask you, do you?"

"I was sort of hoping," I said tiredly. I cast my mind for a person who might go well with Cedric. "Look, ask...Cho Chang or somebody. I can fend for myself."

"Hey, Nicci," he said suspiciously, "you're not thinking of going with Potter, are you?"

Ha! That's all I needed, to drag Harry into this mess. "No, of course not! What's the matter with you? I just told you I didn't want to go with anyone."

"Sorry," he said, and he looked genuinely apologetic, so I let it go. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"No, it's all right," I told him. "Don't worry about it."

Cedric looked around for his owl, and while his back was turned, I mouthed '_HELP ME!_' very obviously at Thaniel. Thaniel gave me a 'you're-so-pathetic' shake of the head, but gave a large yowl and bolted out of the room like a cat out of hell (no pun intended, of course).

I gave an apologetic look to Cedric, who looked absolutely bewildered and raced out after him, silently promising to give Thaniel whatever he wanted for dinner for a month.

God, who'd've thought the great Alecta Gryffindor would be reduced to running after a cat in order to get away from an encounter? Though, to be fair, no one had ever taught me how to deal with men. Or maybe they had, and I'd never bothered to pay attention. Damn.

Thaniel yowled again, this time even louder, and I cursed him as I ran even faster. He was taking this scheme way too far, and I reacted by taking his reward from a month to a week. HA! Take that, Thaniel! Of course, not knowing I'd originally given him a month, he probably wouldn't see a week as a punishment. That blasted animal.

* * *

"_Krum_? Really?"

"You needn't sound so surprised, Nicci," said Hermione as she picked her way through a rack at Gladrags Wizardwear. I stared at her, the brown dress in my hands forgotten as I took in this piece of information. "I am perfectly capable of going with anyone I want to to the Ball."

"But – but..._Krum_?"

"What's the matter with Krum?" asked Ginny, who was holding a pretty, but simple white robe. "I mean, he's a Quidditch player and all."

"Is that the only way you people judge others?" snapped Hermione. "By how good they are at _Quidditch_?"

"Well, Hermione, that's really the only thing he's got going for him," I said. "I mean, he's good-looking enough, but there are _plenty_ of other people –"

"Nicci, do you really want to finished that sentence?" Hermione looked at the dress I had long-since forgotten. "Put that dress back, brown is not your color."

"What? Oh," I interrupted myself. "You're right."

"I'd try that green one," said Ginny, pointing to the next rack over. "You're so lucky, black hair goes with everything."

"Red hair is more striking, though," I countered, trying to make Ginny feel better. "Find the right shade and you'll look extraordinarily pretty."

"You both have beautiful hair and you'll both look extraordinary," interrupted Hermione. "Nicci, have you found a date yet?"

Ginny laughed. "There are _plenty_ for her to find, she just _won't_."

"Well, Harry, Ron and George still don't have dates," suggested Hermione. "Go with one of them."

"No, George is going with Alicia," said Ginny. "Your choices are Harry and Ron – good luck." Though, from the way she said it, she would've been happy to have that same choice.

My heart fell into my stomach and drowned. "Is he?" I said, trying to be suave and just barely scraping by.

"Yeah, I guess he realized that if he didn't ask her there'd be no one left," said Ginny, completely over-looking my internal crisis. My scraping by had obviously been enough. "Though you're one of the prettiest girls in the school and you're still date-less."

"Though not for lack of trying," I grumbled, thinking about all of the boys who had asked me to go. "I wish they'd just give up."

"You're supposed to want to go with someone," said Hermione waspishly. "You're ruining the giggly holiday spirit." She didn't look like this particularly bothered her. "What d'you think of this?" She held up a beautiful deep blue robe accented with lace and silk.

"It's very nice," said Ginny.

"It's lovely," I told her. "Go try it on."

"Here," said Ginny, tossing a satin-y green robe at me. "Go with her."

"What about you?" asked Hermione.

"I already have a robe," said Ginny, but she sounded depressed. "Mum sent it over."

I smiled. Grabbing a silver-y robe I'd been considering forcing her to try on all day, I thrust it into her arms and said, "Come on, princess."

"Nicci!" spluttered Ginny as Hermione and I dragged her into the dressing rooms.

"Perfect."

"Outstanding."

"I really can't afford this, you two."

"It doesn't matter, you still look beautiful."

Ginny's robe looked even better than I thought it would. It was a silver fabric, but it wasn't too sparkly, and her red hair was the splash of color needed to set off the robe. It was modest, with lace sleeves to her elbows, and a lace bow on one side of her hip, but it was long and it just touched the floor, perfect for dancing and not tripping.

"You two look better," said Ginny, looking into the mirror critically.

My robes were a faded light green, the bodice a darker green that lightened until about my knees where it became white. The skirt of my dress was layered at an angle and the whole thing was covered in scattered tiny jewels that made the robe shine. It was off-the-shoulder, with see-through white fabric bunched up on my upper arms.

I stared at it. "It's certainly..."

"Elegant?"

"Divine?"

"I was going to say 'risque,'" I told them.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That is _not '_risque,'Nicci." Hermione was wearing a deep purple silk dress that flowed straight from mid-stomach to floor, doing the impressive job of hiding and accenting her curves, as well as being spacey enough for dancing and thin enough to not look odd. It was much more simple than mine, but it was also more mature and elegant and it suited her well.

Ginny grinned at her. "You're wearing that to the Yule Ball. And as for you," she added, spinning to look at me, "if you don't wear that, I'll – I'll – I don't even know what I'll do."

"What about you?" I questioned again.

"I told you – after the announcements went out, Mum sent me robes."

"But you don't like them."

"No, that's not true," argued Ginny. "They're very nice, but they're...black and plain. I'll be fine."

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue, but I elbowed her and gave her a look. She nodded, but she didn't look particularly happy about it. "Come on, Ginny," she said. "We'll go pay for my robes. Nicci?"

I handed her my robes and enough money to pay for my purchase. "Here," I said. "I have to go to the bathroom. Meet at Honeydukes?" There was _always _a long line at Gladrag's Wizardwear.

Hermione nodded and steered Ginny to the front of the store. I ducked behind a rack and found the dress Ginny had worn earlier. Searching carefully through the back of the store, I found a pair of earrings and shoes that went well with it and waited for Hermione and Ginny to leave before purchasing all three items.

* * *

Ginny's lessons were going exceedingly well – she was a quick learner and she grasped theory much better than I did. When I'd told her about myself in the TriWizard Tournament, I'd exaggerated my own abilities a bit. When I'd been at Hogwarts, I'd been good at Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I was not a prodigal student by any means, but I was a Fire-Tamer, which made me special and powerful.

I always felt like rolling my eyes when I looked back at myself. I'd begun to apply myself to Magical Studies only when I had nothing else to do with myself, after I'd become immortal.

"Very good," I said, when she successfully did the 'Accio' charm. "That's a fourth-year spell, Harry, Ron and Hermione just learned it."

"Thanks," she said, flushed from the praise. "You're a really good teacher – you explain the theory like you invented it and not like you just read it out of a book. Have you ever considered becoming a Hogwarts professor?"

"Me?" I asked. "No."

"You should, you're better than half my teachers. I mean," she said, flushing, as she realized we had the same teachers, "you just really know what you're talking about and the ins and outs of the spell itself. Your answers are more explanatory than the answers I get from my teachers, you know?"

"I didn't," I replied. I had never even considered teaching, especially not at Hogwarts.

"All right, so what can you tell me about the Battle of Bordegeaux?"

* * *

"So, who're thinking about going to the Ball with?" I asked Ron as we walked down the corridor to the Common Room. We'd been out looking for Harry, who'd just vanished into thin air, but we'd given up and decided that if Harry could defeat a basilisk, he could make it to the Common Room.

"No idea," said Ron glumly. Him and Harry had made some sort of promise to ask a girl to the dance, but so far Ron had come up blank, despite the fact that I didn't have a date and he _knew_ I didn't have a date. He must have decided that I was out of his league and that it wasn't even worth asking me, even though I would've probably said yes just to get Hermione and Ginny off my back. "I've probably run out of available –" He stopped suddenly, his eyes clouding over. He took a deep breath, as if inhaling some sort of perfume while I watched, utterly bewildered.

"Ron?" I asked uncertainly. "Are you...?" I trailed off as Ron strode away from me, over to Fleur Delacour, who had been talking to Cedric. "Ron?" I asked again.

Ron ignored me. He stopped in front of Fleur, who stared at him, before saying quite loudly, "Fleur Delacour, would you do me the honor of being my date to the Ball?"

I stared at him. _What is he doing?_

Oh.

_Oh._

Hadn't Harry said something about Fleur being part-veela?

"Ron? Ron!" Fleur was staring at him, an expression of both disgust and confusion mixed into her ridiculously beautiful features. All of a sudden, Ron came back and his face went pale white. Nearly retching, he ran off in a direction opposite where we were supposed to go and I, being the only friend in the group of silent people watching the scene, ran after him. Ginny must've been there too, because she caught up with me as we ran and said, "What the hell was that?"

"Veela magic," I answered her.

"I _knew_ she was part veela," cried Ginny, sounding triumphant. "Hey, there he is." We skidded to a halt (Well, Ginny skidded. I just stopped.) and walked carefully over to him.

"Er, Ron?"

Ron had slid down to the ground with his knees against his chest and his head in his hands. "Merlin...why did I do it?...how did it happen..."

"Ron," said Ginny reassuringly. "You're fine. Come on, get up." Ron seemed unwilling to move, but Ginny and I were (thankfully) strong enough to pull him to his feet. "Calm down."

Ron mumbled to himself the entire way back to the Common Room, and Ginny and I were helpless to do anything besides guide him (he nearly banged into the wall five times) and look helplessly at each other (personally, I thought he was being a little dramatic, but I could be wrong). When we finally reached the Common Room, we sat him in a chair and waited for Harry or Hermione to get back and fix him. After a few minutes of Ron repeating the same horrified phrase over and over again, Ginny kneeled down next to him and began comforting him before telling me in no uncertain terms to get Harry if I had to use a Summoning Charm to do it.

Thankfully, Harry turned up just as I was leaving, so all I had to do was drag him over to Ron and Ginny. Harry stared at his best friend. "What's up, Ron?"

"Why did I do it?" moaned Ron, finally speaking up enough for us to hear him. "I don't know what made me do it!"

"What?" questioned Harry.

"He – er – just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him," said Ginny, wincing. She might be fooling Harry and Ron, but as soon as she got upstairs, she'd be rolling on my bed, absolutely hysterical.

"You _what_?"

"I don't know what made me do it!" cried Ron again. "What was I playing at? There were people – all around – I've gone mad – everyone watching! I was just walking with Nicci past her in the entrance hall – she was standing there talking to Diggory – and it sort of came over me – and I asked her!"

"It was quite the sight," I put in helpfully.

Ron moaned and put his face back into his hands. "Harry!" I cried. "You were supposed to fix him!"

Harry shot me a glare (though whether it was because of what I had said or because the idea of fixing Ron was simply impossible, I couldn't tell) and turned back to Ron, asking, "So then what happened?"

"She looked at me like I was a sea slug or something. And then – I dunno – I just sort of came to my senses and ran for it."

"She's part veela," Harry told him rather comfortingly (for a bloke). "You were right – her grandmother was one. It wasn't your fault, I bet you just walked past when she was turning on the old charm for Diggory and got a blast of it – but she was wasting her time. He's going with Cho Chang."

He's _what_? So even when I'm rejecting him, I'm still setting him up with other people. Diggory, Diggory, Diggory. That sly old dog. "How d'you know?" I asked. Harry just didn't seem the type to gossip about the castle's couples.

"I asked her to go with me just now," Harry replied sullenly, "and she told me."

And if there was ever a prize for tactless things to say, Harry would've won it with that comment. Going on about asking out another girl and how obviously upset you are about her rejection in front of another girl who _couldn't_ be more obvious about her crush on you if she tattoo-ed it across her forehead was never a good idea. Ginny handled it surprisingly well, though. She stopped her faint smile, but apart from that, she gave no indication that she cared.

"This is mad," said Ron. "We're the only ones left who haven't got anyone – well, except Neville. Hey – guess who he asked? Hermione!"

"What?"

"Really?" I asked, cutting over Harry. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I know!" crowed Ron. He looked better, though it was truly pathetic that he had to have a go at someone else in order to feel better. "He told me after Potions! Said she's always been really nice, helping him out with work and stuff – but she told him she was already going with someone. Ha! As if! She just didn't want to go with Neville...I mean, who would?"

"Ron!" I snapped as Ginny said, "Don't! Don't laugh –"

"Why weren't you three at dinner?" came Hermione's voice as she came in through the portrait hole.

"Because – oh, shut up laughing, you two – because they've both just been turned down by girls they asked to the ball!" snapped Ginny, no longer slightly amused.

"Ha!" I chuckled as Harry and Ron stopped laughing. "Doesn't feel so nice on the other side, does it?"

"All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?" said Hermione smugly. I could tell she was happy because she had a date and a beautiful dress and Harry and Ron didn't. Small pleasures. "Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you."

"Hermione, Neville's right," said Ron suddenly, looking Hermione up and down, "you are a girl..."

"Oh, no," I muttered. Ginny grinned at me.

"Oh, well spotted," snarled Hermione.

"Well – you can come with one of us!"

"No, I can't."

"Oh, come on," said Ron almost angrily, "we need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has..."

"I can't come with you because I'm already going with someone else!" cried Hermione finally. I thought Hermione was going to use the cluelessness of Harry and Ron to her advantage – that'd been the plan – but it seemed Hermione had forgotten to take their stubbornness into account.

"No, you're not!" said Ron. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"

"Merlin, the stupidity...," I said under my breath to Ginny, who shook with silent laughter.

"Apparently it's catching," she whispered back.

They're just so _clueless_," I said in awe.

"I've already told you!" snapped Hermione. She'd gotten herself worked up to a point where she needed to leave before she blew a gasket. "I'm going with someone else!" She stormed out of the Common Room. She did that a lot, especially, when Harry and Ron were around.

"She's lying," said Ron.

"She's not," responded Ginny.

"Who is it, then?" argued Ron.

"We're not tell you, it's her business," I told him flatly.

"Right," said Ron finally, "this is getting stupid. Ginny, you can go with Harry, and I'll just –"

"She can't," I interrupted, because Ginny looked like she might agree. "She's going with Neville. He asked her when Hermione said no, and she's a third year, she can't go unless she has a date. It's not her fault you lot are a bunch of procrastinators. There's no reason you couldn't've had this conversation a week ago."

Ginny looked depressed. "I – I think I'll just go and have dinner, then." She walked out of the room, her head bowed. I felt incredibly sorry for her. I also thought it was rather funny that neither Harry or Ron had thought to ask me to the ball. At this point, I'd say yes to whichever one asked me first, just so that they weren't completely helpless when Christmas Day came round.

Instead of turning to the only other girl there, Ron looked at Harry and said, "What's got into them?"

"Maybe your brilliant comments have gotten to their heads," I told him.

Harry stood up suddenly and walked over to Parvati and Lavender, who'd just come in. So he'd given up on the ask-a-girl-you-actually-like approach and was now going for take-anyone-you-can-get. "Parvati? Will you go to the ball with me?"

She burst into giggles, but said, "No, sorry. I've already been asked by someone from Beauxbatons."

"Lavender?"

"She's going with Seamus," responded Parvati, giggling again.

"Why don't you ask Nicci?" said Lavender. "She hasn't got a date."

I grinned. Harry stared at them. "She hasn't?"

"Well, she's been asked," said Parvati. "A lot. Everyone wants to go with Nicci, but she turned them all down. But maybe since you're friends and all she'll go with you." She turned to me, where I was carefully not paying attention to the conversation. "Hey, Nicci!"

I looked at her before getting up and walking over. "What is it?"

"Er – Nicci, d'you want to go to the ball with me?" asked Harry. _It's about time he figured it out,_ I thought.

I looked at him and shrugged. "Why not? Yes, I'll go with you," I added on, almost as an afterthought. Looking at him, I was still shorter and skinnier than him, which was pathetic, because he was shorter and skinnier than all the other blokes I knew. Of course, him being a champion and all, he'd have to dance – but I was a good dancer, despite how much I hated doing it, so better me than anyone else, since he wasn't particularly coordinated.

"Can't you think of anyone who'd go with Ron?" asked Harry, lowering his voice a little.

"What about Hermione Granger?" said Parvati.

"She's going with someone else."

"Ooooh – who?" Parvati asked me.

"Later," I stood for a moment, thinking before I finally said, "Hey, what about your sister – Padma, right? I don't think she has a date, and she'd probably be willing to go."

"I could ask," said Parvati a bit doubtfully. Fortunately, Harry didn't seem to pick up on it. He said good-bye and walked back over to Ron, leaving me behind. "So, who's Hermione going to the ball with?"

"Viktor Krum," I whispered to her. Parvati and Lavender stared at each other before squealing like maniacs and collapsing back into giggles. "Shut up! And don't tell Harry or Ron – it's Hermione's business, not yours."

"All right, all right," said Parvati. "And I know you didn't want to go with a date, Nicci, but don't worry about it! It'll be fun, I promise!" And with that, her and Lavender walked away, giggling and whispering madly, leaving me feeling as though I'd just battled my way through a mountain of Blast-Ended Skrewts.

* * *

**A/N:** MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I gave you a chapter for New Years! Doesn't that just make you want to cry?

I apologize for being such a lazy and unreliable updater. It's just that I'm...you know, lazy and unreliable.

So, the next chapter should be out this week, since I already have half of it written, but don't hold me to that, because I can't be sure.

Have a good one!

Disclaimer: Yada, yada, yada, I don't own Harry Potter and all that crap.


	28. Chapter 26: To Change or Not To Change

**Chapter 26: To Change or Not To Change**

_Quick Note: I just realized that in the beginning chapters, I made it so Ginny was rooming with Nicci, Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati. THIS IS A MISTAKE. She is rooming with _her roommates_ in the year below. So don't ask: Isn't she with Nicci and Hermione? Because she's not. At some point in time, like when I catch up with my chapters, I will go back and fix this. But that point in time is not this point in time. So you'll just have to deal._

**Alecta:**

As the Yule Ball approached, the morale of the school seemed to raise to an impossibly high state, despite the cold and miserable weather and the bundle of homework the professors had given as if angry with us for daring to have fun over break. Knowing all the information I would ever need to write about the topics they set us, I was able to finish all the work in one go. I felt extremely sorry for all those poor souls who hadn't happened to be there for the Fifteenth Goblin Rebellion (which was actually the sixteenth, the stupid editors had left out the Underground Uprising of 1480) and had to go research it instead. I had once tried to read the textbooks and had been appalled at how dry and vague they had been about all the details. Immortals never forgot historical happenings – it was the only new thing they had to look forward to. Oh! Speaking of which, I had to go see some old Roman friends of mine – Fabricius and Cnaeus – and see if I could borrow one of their Fire-Tamer scripts they had saved from the Fires of Alexandria. I had fallen pathetically far behind due to my lacking interest, and now I needed something new to learn, which was always a problem for me.

I mean, at the moment, I was translating two of my essays into Ancient Greek, just to prove I could, so I was really very bored. If no one came and saved me from myself, I'd most likely end up translating the entirety of _Hogwarts, A History_ into Latin and there was nothing I could do about it.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Ben!"

"Oh, come on, Hailey, look at her! She's dead depressing."

"So, look what the cat dragged in," I said without looking at the voice, or the ghost who'd spoken with said voice. "You know, the two of you are both terrible friends. I had to get all of my answers from Erised, for Merlin's sake! Why couldn't you just say, "Alecta, old buddy, old pal, you're going to lose your terrible, icy temper and become nicer and funnier, not to mention much, much more emotional. You're also going to begin to forget your own personality and have to base it off of the reactions people give you. Oh, you're going to completely lose your visions once you turn seventeen! Just thought I'd let you know, since this is kind of important and all."

Both ghosts stared at me for a minute, completely gobsmacked, before Hailey lifted up her arms in a don't-hurt-me, peace-making sort of way. "I thought you were happy without your visions! You hated being hurt every week!" cried Hailey defensively.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "She's cranky without them," Ben told her smugly. "She doesn't like not knowing what's going on. Alecta, does _anything _make you happy?"

"Yes," I said. "Learning about the changes in my life from my two friends and not from a mirror."

"Oi!" came an annoyed voice. Looking around, I spotted Erised sitting on the couch opposite me, "First off, you ungrateful witch, I am a perfectly capable friend and mentor and I have done a damn good job of being there when you need me. Second, I am not a mirror, I am the _spirit_ of the Mirror of Erised, the human essence created by the wistful wantings of millions of people," she recited, as though she'd had to say the exact same thing many, many times over the course of her very long life. "And third, why are you writing your essays in Ancient Greek at four in the morning? You know your teachers won't accept that."

"They might give her extra credit," Hailey said fairly. I gave her a look, and she quickly attempted to get back on track. "But Alecta," she added in her pleading tones, "the Yule Ball's tomorrow evening, you can't be sitting here writing papers in the dark that nobody else can read."

"I can read them," said Erised.

"You don't count – you're a mirror," snarked Ben.

"Oi, you're a ghost, so you don't count either, boyo," Erised snarked back at him.

"Really, I'd like to get back to my work, so unless you have something important to say...," I began, hoping they'd get the picture.

The three of them stopped arguing and turned to stare at me, mouths open. "_You..._want to work?" said Ben as if he couldn't quite believe his ears.

"Well, no," I admitted sulkily – that hadn't worked at all. "I just want you to _leave_."

It took them a second, but slowly, they turned back to each other and grinned. "That makes much more sense!" Erised told me, her face relaxing.

"You really had us worried there, Alecta," Hailey said kindly.

I rolled my eyes at the three of them, searching for something to say so they wouldn't start bickering again. "Oh! Hailey, Ben, you can take my ghost form. I don't want it."

That got their attention. "What?" cried Ben. "But you loved that thing! You used it to get rid of your anger all the time!"

"I know," I said to him immaturely. "But I'm really tired of looking at it."

"You're _what_?" Hailey and Ben said together.

I sat up, thinking about something that had hit me a few nights ago. "I realized something a little while ago, you two. I actually have a chance here. I have friends and people who like me, and – and this isn't something I can just walk away from, you know?" I said, thinking this through even as I said it. "I can't just get up and leave. And that's an experience I've never felt before. All of those wars and battles I fought, and I could've picked up and left and no one would have really cared. But here – here I belong. Even though nobody knows who I really am and everything about me is a lie, I have people who would try and follow me if I went away."

Hailey, Ben and Erised exchanged looks. "But, Alecta," said Hailey timidly. "They don't even know your real name."

"But it doesn't matter!" I cried. "Even so, I could get married and have kids and _do_ something with my life besides kill and battle. It's a crazy, crazy thing, but the possibility of it is closer than in any other point of my life. And Alecta – to me, the ghost is just an escape route that I can use. If I'm going to pretend to be someone I'm not, I can't double back to who I used to be."

"I thought you hated marriage," said Ben.

"No, I hate _early_ marriage, you prat," I told him. "I don't think anything after my 30th birthday constituted as 'early.'"

"I remember that," Hailey said softly. "You were the champion of unmarried women."

"Your father wasn't pleased," Ben added nostalgically.

"Your mother was in a rage," remembered Erised.

"My mother was always in a rage," I told her. "Especially when it involved me."

"Ugly old hag, she was," Ben said.

"See, I wish that were true," I laughed. "It'd help me feel better about myself." I rolled up my pant leg and looked at my birthmark tattoo. The lion and the snake...that brought out bad memories. "Damn, we're off-topic again."

"We _are_," said Hailey. "So, what does your new life theory have to do with the ghost form?"

"I just said," I told her. "I don't want to be somebody else while still trying to be myself. Just get rid of it."

"And you're really all right with the possibility of them never knowing who you are?"

"Of course not, Erised," I replied. "But better them not know, at least for them. Being friends with Alecta Gryffindor is dangerous, especially when the whole world knows. Speaking of Alecta Gryffindor," I interrupted myself, changing topics, "d'you have any idea where Fabricius and Cnaeus are? I want to borrow their scroll on Fire-Tamers."

"Yes," grumbled Erised. "I wanted to use a book on the earliest forms of Arithmancy. Unfortunately, they've gotten themselves put in house arrest by the Council of Ghosts, and won't be out until next year. Gerhild's been trying to smuggle their more demanded books out, but so far they haven't been able to."

"I don't like him," I muttered darkly.

"Why not?" asked Hailey.

"He beat her at a game of Sheepshead sixty-four years ago," Ben told her.

"A game of what?"

"It's a German card game," Erised explained.

"Really?" Hailey asked. "That's the only reason you don't like him?"

I glared at her. "It was a cutthroat game of Sheepshead, all right?"

"Of course it was, Alecta honey," Hailey giggled.

I ignored her and said to Erised, "What did they do to get put in house arrest?"

"Oh, the idiots stole the Head Council's gavel and started an earthquake in Mindoro," responded Erised. "It wouldn't have been so bad on its own, but they ended up killing 80 Muggles, so the Council proclaimed them 'dangerous to society on a whole' and won't let them out until the next winter solstice. Even Ophelia couldn't get in to see them or smuggle out the texts."

"Who?" Ben, Hailey and I asked together.

"Oh, that's right, you haven't met the newest immortal yet," Erised said thoughtfully. "She's a seventeen-year-old from the Salem Witches Institute."

"How long has she been immortal?" I asked interestedly, rolling up my unfinished translations and closing my books.

"What...eleven years?"

"Wow," said Ben. "No wonder no one's heard of her, she might as well be a newborn!"

"Exactly," Erised exclaimed. "However, the Council has a soft spot for her, and they won't even let _her_ in. So I suppose we're just going to have to wait a year, Alecta."

My sour mood returned. "I'm going to kill them both."

"I hate to ask...," said Hailey. "But how, _exactly_, d'you kill an immortal?"

Ben and I looked at her in surprise. "You've been hanging round with us for the past thousand years, haven't you?" said Ben. "How do you not know?"

I hit him. Well, I tried to hit him, but most unfortunately, he's no longer solid. "Ben, she never stayed with us when we went to see the others," I snapped at him instead. "Hailey, you kill an immortal just like you kill anyone else."

"But they're _immortal_," Hailey responded.

"See, this is why I'm a Ravenclaw and you're a Hufflepuff," said Ben kindly. "Immortals can be killed by any means used to kill humans, except most poisons. They're just a lot harder to kill."

Hailey looked from Ben, to me, to Erised. "I don't like being the stupid one," she mumbled.

"Let me explain it," said Erised tiredly. "Immortals are people who can live forever, unless they're killed by another immortal or a _very_ lucky mortal."

"But, Alecta –"

"Well, Alecta's a special case," Erised said. "Most immortals, or all except Alecta, are simply people blessed by the Council of Ghosts with long life in order to develop their specific talents or specialties. Most immortals are either the creators of powerful spells or potions or the mentors of those creators."

"Well, I know that," said Hailey rather mutinously.

"It's possible to kill them because most people don't want to live _forever_," continued Erised. "So usually, when they are old enough and wise enough, they ask another immortal to kill them, and soon after, another immortal takes their place."

"So, Alecta –"

"I'm getting to that," snapped Erised. "We don't know how, or why, but Alecta was the only immortal to become completely invincible. She was impossible to kill and it frightened the other immortals. They mostly avoided her, especially considering how terrifying and cruel she used to be."

"Thank you," I called sarcastically from the couch.

"They used to call her 'the Demon of War,' 'the Queen of Blood,' and 'the 21st Immortal," Erised carried on, as though I hadn't spoken.

"I never understood that," Ben griped. "Why is 'the 21st Immortal' such a cruel name?"

"Because there are only ever supposed to be 20 immortals at any point in time," I answered Ben. "If 21 immortals were to unite, they would be able to take over the Council of Ghosts. Thankfully, they were too afraid of me to suggest it and I was too disinterested in the Council to ever consider it. Of course, it's also a name the bravest people would use against me. It's basically saying that I don't belong, that I'm not natural, that I shouldn't even be alive." I started. "Wow, I'd forgotten about that."

"Oh," Hailey said in a small voice.

"Did you know that they had considered making Tom Riddle an immortal?" said Erised.

"Oh, that'd be exactly what we need," I said, stacking up my textbooks. "An immortal Voldemort."

There was an awkward pause.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," said Ben.

"Benjamin Lucas Ravenclaw, what is it?"

"I just...wouldn't be so sure he's not," said Ben. "Erised told me over the summer about how you talked about 'horcruxes' in one of your future visions?" I nodded. "Well, I've been looking through some of my mum's old books, and I came up with nothing. So then I went through those records in the Council's library, and I found it."

"Well, what is it?" I asked. "If Erised doesn't know, then...well," I said, considering, "Erised doesn't actually know any magic, so that's not much of a leap." Erised glared at me.

"A horcrux is a piece of a person's soul separated from the whole," explained Ben. "You put the piece of soul in a – a "container" – and it makes it impossible to kill you."

"How does it work?"

"Well, it's actually quite despicable," Ben told the attentive group. "You have to kill another human, and in that moment of pure evil, one is able to split the soul and place a piece of it into a shell. And only when the piece of soul is destroyed can the person who made the horcrux be killed."

"That's disgusting," said Hailey.

"Exactly," nodded Ben.

"It makes sense," I said.

"It certainly seems like the sort of thing Voldemort would do," said Erised. "It would also mean that Voldemort is not dead, since no one has ever guessed about horcruxes."

"Of course he isn't," I said disgustedly. "That would be too easy."

"Have you seen anything in your visions?" asked Hailey. "You had some a few nights ago, didn't you?"

"Nothing useful," I grumbled angrily, thinking about my visions. That was one topic I r_eally, really_ didn't want to discuss."The most useful thing I learned was that Horace Slughorn is returning to Hogwarts in a year and a half. Oh, also, Ginny, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville Longbottom, a girl named Luna Lovegood and I are going to go flying off on thestrals sometime next year."

"Why the bloody hell would you do that?" asked Ben in amazement.

"No idea," I said. "All I do know is that Harry is the only Horcrux who _is_ a Horcrux."

"Brilliant," sighed Erised, lying down on the couch. "So, how do we protect him if we've got to kill him?"

"Aw, damn, I forgot about that," I groaned, not thinking. "These damn visions have got me so worked up."

"Why?" asked Hailey shrewdly, looking me once over. She gasped and I closed my eyes. "Alecta, you're lying to us! You _did _see something important and you don't want to talk about it!" She paused, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. "What the hell sort of vision did you have?"

"I didn't," I grimaced, cursing myself for my stupidity. "It's nothing."

"Right," said Ben sarcastically. "Because we're new at this. What happened, Alecta?"

"Nothing!" I snapped at him.

"Don't lie to us, Alecta," he snapped back at me.

It was times like these that I was both thankful and hated the fact that I had such loyal friends. I sighed in defeat. "I – I saw Diggory die."

Erised fell off the couch. "_What_? The bloke who asked you to the ball?"

"Yeah," I said tonelessly. "I must've seen something like it before, before I first saw him, you know? When I met him, I could tell there was _something_ wrong with him. But I couldn't place what."

"And now you know," said Erised sadly.

"What are you going to do?" asked Hailey.

"What d'you mean, what am I going to do?" I responded incredulously. "I'm going to do what I always do – let it happen. It's, y'know, meant to be."

"But this is someone you know, Alecta," she said earnestly. "This is someone you go to school with, someone who has a life, friends, family. This isn't war, where the possibility of death is ever-present. You've got to tell someone!"

"I can't," I told her. "I don't know how, or why, but it's important that he dies."

"Alecta, this isn't war! This isn't a game!"

"You're such a Hufflepuff, Hailey!" I snapped. "You want me to save him, but you don't know what could happen if I do! I could potentially screw up the future!"

"Perhaps the future's already bollocks! What if _that's _why you were given this gift –"

"We've had this discussion before, Hailey," I growled.

"But you were a bit of a freak back then, Alecta," she pointed out. "You're different now."

"Both of you, shut up!" interrupted Erised. "Hailey, you can't honestly expect Alecta to change her mind."

"And why not?"

"Because all visions hinge on each other," said Erised calmly. "If you change even one detail in one vision, you might completely erase another."

I glared at Hailey, though I knew she was only saying this because she cared about me. "I'm going to bed," I finally said bitterly. "Good night." I walked off before any of them could get another word in.

* * *

"Dear Merlin, Hermione, _what _are you doing?" Ginny stared at the turned-over room in shock. We'd just returned from having a snowball fight with Harry, Ron, Fred and George. It had been Ginny, Hermione and I against Harry, Ron, Fred and George, but then Hermione'd left halfway through. Ron joined our team, but he had terrible aim, so Ginny and I ended up doing all the work. Ginny had been aiming at Fred and George, but then caught Harry full in the face and was so embarrassed that I had to come up with the 'we're girls, we need time to get ready' excuse and get out of there before she turned as red as her hair. She seemed to have recovered on the way back to the Common Room, but I was still a bit worried about her.

"What time is it?" asked Hermione, rushing into the room like bloody murder. We'd decided to dress in Ginny's dorm, since she was the only third-year girl in Gryffindor who'd been asked.

"6:15. When did you get here?" I asked her, looking at her with her wet hair and underclothes on. She was putting on a slip as we stood in the doorway, covered in snow and mud.

"I came at five," she said, glancing at us. Obviously, what she saw was bad, because the next thing she said was, "Into the showers, both of you!"

"Your hair looks nice," I offered as she pushed us into the bathroom.

"Thank you," she told me before closing the door. I could hear her rummaging around the room, and I dearly hoped she left the present I'd stashed for Ginny earlier untouched.

"Well, into the showers, I suppose," Ginny said, mimicking Hermione very unenthusiastically.

Forty minutes later, we were out and I was curling Ginny's hair with my wand. Hermione was using her wand to guide her hair into a low side bun with a few wisps of hair falling on either side of her face. I cast a Temporary Hair-Stick Charm on her scalp so the bun wouldn't change if she fell off the Astronomy Tower.

Hermione had calmed down since we first saw her in the room, but when she looked at the clock and realized it was already 7:15, she nearly had a panic attack right then and there. She pulled out a small black bag and began taking small boxes out of it. "What is that?" hissed Ginny in my ear.

"No idea," I whispered back. I walked over and asked, "Hermione, what is that?"

Hermione pulled out a box and took a pad covered in something tan out of it. "It's make-up," she explained sharply.

"Muggle make-up?" said Ginny in interest.

"Yes," answered Hermione. "Why, is there witch make-up?"

"Of course, Hermione," I told her, pulling out a box of Magical Make-Up and showing it to her. "Here." I picked my wand up, circled it in the dark blue eyeshadow and waved it across her eyes. "Now look."

Hermione stared in the mirror. "That's incredible!" she exclaimed happily. Her posture relaxed and her face softened. "Brilliant, witches and wizards."

Ginny looked slightly offended that she hadn't that before, but I laughed. "All right, you two. Let's finish this before Hermione explodes."

"Yeah, she wouldn't want to miss her date with an international Quidditch player," teased Ginny. Hermione scowled while we giggled unhelpfully.

While Hermione put on her make-up, Ginny helped me into my robes and then ooh-ed and ahh-ed while I threatened her with death via snowballs if she didn't shut up. I had allowed my hair down, only pulling the front back and braiding it so it looked neat and elegant. Finally, Ginny picked up her plain black robes and sighed.

Grabbing the box from its secret hiding place (and it was a good hiding place, since Hermione hadn't found it), I tapped her shoulder and presented her with it when she looked around. "What is this?" she asked me suspiciously.

"Happy Christmas!" I cried innocently. Hermione looked up from where she'd been smoothing her robes down on the bed and watched the scene unfold.

"It's a very big box," she said quietly, almost awed by it. I stared at her. "Yes, now open it."

She got her senses back and glared at me, before ripping it open and gasping. There, in the box, was the silver dress I'd bought her from Gladrags Wizardwear and the shoes and earrings to go with it. "What in the name of Merlin –" she spluttered to herself. I grinned at her. "Nicci!"

"Yes?"

"What were you thinking, getting me this?"

"I was thinking that you liked the dress and that you really deserved it," I told her earnestly.

"I – I don't even know what to say."

I laughed. "I know! That was the best part, the idea that you'd be shocked speechless."

Hermione laughed and pulled on her robes, arranging them neatly to fit just right. With my help, Ginny got into her robes and spun around a couple of times for fun. Then she smiled her most genuine smile and said, "This is going to be _so_ very fun."

Hermione and I agreed and with ten minutes to spare, made it down into the Common Room. Hermione left immediately, partly to meet Krum and partly so Ron and Harry wouldn't see her right away. Neville came down next, his shy smile widening as he saw Ginny waiting. "You look very pretty," he mumbled to her as they left the Common Room together. I stood in the Common Room alone for another three minutes or so before Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean all came down together. Harry looked very handsome, Dean and Seamus looked presentable, and Ron...well, considering the robes he was is, Ron looked very nice as well. Dean actually stopped in shock when he saw me, and the result being that Seamus tripped over Dean and Ron tripped over Seamus and all three of them ended up on the floor with Harry the last man standing. Guiltily thanking my lucky stars that Harry had been the one to ask me first, I stepped over Dean and Ron, who were lying tangled up on the floor, and reached Harry, saying, "You look very nice."

"Oh, so do you," he replied in a startled sort of way, helping Ron to his feet. I was thankful for that, because if he didn't care too much about how I looked, it meant he wouldn't stare like an idiot all night.

Parvati and Lavender walked by, Lavender picking up Seamus along the way, and Parvati said, "Ron, Padma's going to meet you in the entrance hall."

"Right," Ron said, looking around. "Where's Hermione?"

"She already left," I told him. He looked rather hurt, so I turned to Harry and said, "Shall we go down and get this over with?"

Harry shrugged, so I grabbed the both of the by the arm and towed them out of the room, ignoring Fred as he made some sort of comment to Harry. I made it halfway to the Great Hall before realizing that we should look like we were about to have a good time and not like I was dragging them off to detention. I immediately let go of both of them. They gave me surprised looks, so I said, "You're going to have to make it the rest of the way all on your own, boys," in a hopefully dignified manner. I remembered my first Yule Ball, when I'd ended up going with Hailey's twin brother Hamish – who was handsome and sporty and not much else – which resulted in a food fight and sixteen broken drums. It hadn't been a pleasant evening.

When we reached the entrance hall, Ron found Padma Patil, who was wearing pretty turquoise robes. I turned around to look for Hermione, who had simply disappeared into thin air. I caught sight of Ginny, who was talking to Neville, looking flushed. She caught my eye and in that moment I knew – she wasn't jealous of me at all, like I'd feared. Instead, she was thankful that despite the fact that Harry had a date, it was someone who was highly uninterested in him in a romantic sense and was already friends with him. Then she grinned and I smiled back at her.

"Where is Hermione?" Ron asked again.

"Ron, stop asking, I'm sure she'll turn up sometime," I told him.

"Yeah, of course she will," he said, storming off with Padma on his heels. I shared a look with Harry before returning to the other champions. Hermione and Krum had met up, but she looked so unusually beautiful tonight (not to say she wasn't usually beautiful) that I wasn't surprised Harry hadn't recognized her yet. Cedric and Cho had also paired off, but I couldn't help but guiltily notice that every time Cho looked away he caught my eye. Then, when _I_ determinedly looked away, he continued to stare until Cho turned back.

And Fleur. Fleur, Fleur, Fleur, who had ended up going with the Ravenclaw _Quidditch Captain _of all people. I'd given her a little respect and the benefit of the doubt, but he looked so smitten and she looked happy enough to be receiving attention that I couldn't help but wonder if she was materialistic after all.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked nervously, looking away from Hermione, who he'd obviously just placed.

"Raring to go," I told him, my confidence lacking so severely that I was surprised he didn't bolt.

"Brilliant."

The fanfare sounded and we walked into the Great Hall, arm-in-arm.

* * *

**A/N: **Have we met before?

I mean, it feels like we have, but it's been so long that I can't be sure.

No? Well, perhaps we haven't. Sorry, my mistake.

...Hi there. You might not remember me, I'm the author and updater of this story. It's very nice to meet you. (If there's anyone out there.)


	29. Chapter 27: Bumbling Up the Stairs

**Chapter 27: Bumbling Up the Stairs**

**Alecta:**

Screwed. Screwed, screwed, screwed. I'd completely forgotten about it, but I'd told Cedric that I hadn't turned him down so I could go with Harry – to be more precise, I'd specifically said that not only was I _not_ going with Harry, but I was going alone. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl! What the bloody hell was the matter with me?

Although, to be fair, it wasn't really any of his buisness _who_ I went with, especially since the entire relationship was completely platonic and Harry was too hung up on Cho, anyhow. So I had no reason to feel apologetic, he had absolutely no right to be angry with me, and – oh, let's not even get started on George.

My God, I've become pathetic.

I mean, I was already pretty pathetic, but now I've reached a _whole new level_ of pathetic-ness. I could handle an army. I could handle dragons, inferi, kappas, and dementors. I could even deal with rabid girls (via nasty magical plague). But give me a guy and I fall apart at the seams.

I am Alecta Gryffindor, dammit! I should be able to pick up my guts from where they were hiding at my feet and set them straight. Both of them. And Harry too, just for the heck of it, even though I didn't really need to. But no, I'd ignored every single lesson anyone had ever given me in the ways of man and now I was paying for it with my dignity and self-esteem.

Ginny walked in with a glass of water, took one look at me sitting on her bed in my dress, and said, "Bad night?"

"You don't know the half of it," I muttered in self-pity.

"What happened?"

"Well," I said unhappily, "I pissed off Cedric Diggory, weirded out Harry, and kissed George."

Ginny dropped her glass, which shattered on the floor. "You _what_?"

"I know, and it's funny because Cedric's completely jealous with Harry, when he really should be jealous of –"

"You _kissed my brother_?"

"...Would it make you feel better if I said I hadn't?"

"All I know is that when you went down to the Yule Ball you were _not_ planning on snogging my brother and now you've come back up and you have."

"We didn't _snog_," I said defensively. "One kiss, Ginny, one kiss!"

Ginny shook her head and began stripping out of her dress robes. "Start at the beginning. What happened this evening?"

I sighed. "All right, so it began when we were all at dinner. Personally, I don't think putting all four champions and their dates together at one table with a bunch of Ministry administrators was the most fabulous idea anyone's ever had. Harry and I couldn't really talk because of the company, and so we ended up small talking." This in hindsight, had been a good idea, since Harry had been trying to subtly stare at Cho the whole time (emphasis on the 'trying'), and I'd been dealing with Cedric staring at me. Of course, I thought he'd been staring, but as I discovered halfway through dinner, he'd been glaring at Harry and I.

At first, I couldn't figure out why this was, until I remembered about the aforementioned 'will you be going with Harry?' question. So then once I figured that out, I felt really awkward about the whole thing, and tried to engage Harry in more conversation as we ate. This, unfortunately, was counter-productive since that made Cedric think we were seriously dating. Sidenote: Even if we were seriously dating, he'd still have no right to be jealous, since I hadn't wanted to date him before and I certainly didn't now (call me selfish and unfair, but it was still safer and easier). Sidenote #2: How could Cedric possibly get 'seriously dating' from the smallest and misconstrued signs, but still miss all the obvious and unintentional – no, I'm not lying – flirting George and I had been doing over the past few months?

"Wait a minute, Cedric Diggory asked you to the Yule Ball?"

I laughed awkwardly. "I didn't tell you that?"

Hermione stormed into the dormitory, her face still flushed and her eyes sparking with anger. "Didn't tell her what?"

"Diggory asked her to the Yule Ball and she turned him down!" cried Ginny, pulling on her nightshirt. I pointed out she had yet to take off her makeup. She swore, pulled it off again, and stalked into the bathroom.

"Cedric asked you to the Ball?" asked a surprised Hermione. "And you turned him down?"

"Yes," I said defensively.

"How did it go?"

"I dunno, he found me in the Owlrey, he asked, and I said no," I said. "I wasn't actually planning on going with someone, you know."

"Well, you've buggered things up," called Ginny from the bathroom.

"Thanks, Ginny!" I yelled back sarcastically.

* * *

"Nicci," Harry said to me uncomfortably as our plates cleared away. "Why is Diggory glaring at us?"

"Is he?" I lied, pretending to be oblivious to the matter.

"Maybe you've got something in your teeth."

"Maybe you've got something in yours," I bit back. The other champions were walking away, leaving me momentarily stranded until I remembered we were supposed to dance. "C'mon," I said again, grabbing his arm and pulling, feeling an unbearable sense of deja vu. "We've got to dance."

I did a valiant job ignoring him stumbling over his robes as he followed me onto the ballroom floor. I did an even more valiant job ignoring Dean and Seamus who were sniggering at him as we (or, I) chose a spot. As the other couples readied themselves, though none of them looked half as horrified as Harry, I hissed, "Put your hand on my waist."

"What?" he whispered back, seeming completely bewildered.

"Put your_ hand_ on my _waist_ – oh, here," I grimaced, grabbing his arm and placing it correctly before seizing his other and holding it. As the band began to play, we began to turn slowly before I decided on a good old fashioned waltz and made us move. We weren't outstanding, but we most certainly beat out the others, who had no idea what they were doing. Aunt Rowena had always been insistent on Hailey, Helena, and I knowing how to dance. I think Uncle Salazar had forced Silen, Nathaniel, Hamish, and Ben to dance as well. Father always laughed, but he was happy I knew how to dance as well.

I glanced over a McGonagall, who seemed overly pleased at our – my – dancing, and had even turned to Sprout and quietly begun to brag . She rolled her eyes, but smiled and accepted defeat anyway. Harry was enjoying this even less than I was, which was a great feat, and seemed incapable of doing anything but what I made him do.

"So, er, why d'you think Diggory was really staring at us?" he asked me suddenly, making me look up in surprise.

I should never be surprised. I really just cannot be surprised, I always screw up and blurt out things I shouldn't when I'm surprised. "Well, Diggory asked me and I turned him down and now he thinks we're daaa...never mind."

Harry just stared at me. "You what?"

Oh, no. If I hadn't turned down Cedric, he wouldn't have asked Cho, and _Harry_ couldn've gone with Cho. Effing idiot I am, I'd forgotten.

Where were those Death Eaters when you needed them?

* * *

" ...What? No, that wasn't a horrible thing to think."

"You asked for Dark involvement so you could get out of answering embarrassing questions," said Hermione skeptically.

"Well, when you put it like that," I replied lamely. Ginny snorted into her hand and Hermione smiled and shook her head.

"It amazes me how immature you can be," she told me.

"Yeah, me too," I said under my breath.

"So, then what?" asked Ginny.

"We sat there a while, Ron, Harry, Padma, and I. Padma got bored after about ten minutes and left to dance. She's not very patient, is she?"

"Or you're very lazy," suggested Ginny.

"So Harry, Ron, and I sat there until Hermione came."

"That's it?" asked Ginny. "Didn't you talk?"

"Not really," I said. "I mean, what would we talk about?"

"I don't know, something," interjected Hermione.

"Hermione, you're brilliant, you know, but you just don't understand how guy friends are," I said firmly, being sure to make a clear distinction. "They don't _like_ to talk about dances, who's dancing with who, all that crap. They just...sit there and wait for it to end."

"Wait, what happened when Hermione came?"

I gestured to Hermione, who said, "Ron mocked Viktor and made it out that I didn't care about Harry at all and that I wanted him to lose."

"Which is a bit rich since before the First Task, Ron himself wanted Harry to lose," I tacked on.

Ginny shrugged. "Sounds like Ron."

"So, anyway, after Hermione left I got up and followed her, to make sure she was all right and everything..."

* * *

I watched Hermione leave and then turned to look at Ron. "Couldn't have done it better myself," I said sarcastically. I jumped up and followed her.

"Hi," I said as I walked over to her. "I'm sorry about Ron."

"Why is he acting like this, Nicci? I thought he liked Krum! I thought Krum was an idol!"

"I don't think it's Krum that he's mad about, Hermione. I think it's the fact that Krum went with you."

"But Ron doesn't care!" cried Hermione in frustration. "I was a back-up to him – a last resort! Why would he care?"

"I think it's more subconscious," I said thoughtfully. "Who knows, Hermione? Ron's thick – even for a boy."

"Thanks, Nicci," said Hermione, wiping her eyes. "I'm going to go and try to find Viktor, all right?"

"Go ahead," I told her, pushing her off her seat. "I'm fine."

"Is Harry a bad date?" asked Hermione.

"Nah," I said. "I'm good at dancing—it doesn't mean I like it."

"All right…well, see you later."

I waved to her as she left.

10 minutes, 3 cups of punch, and too many Weird Sister songs later, I was still sitting in my seat looking bored out of my mind. If you didn't have a date—or if it'd disappeared with Ron fifteen minutes ago—there was really nothing to do. Ginny was dancing with Michael Corner, a Ravenclaw, Hermione had gone off to find Krum, and I was sitting here, wishing for some Firewhiskey.

Okay, so maybe I look fourteen, but don't forget I'm over a thousand years old. I'm legally over-age.

"Hey, Nics," said a voice a little ways off.

Aha! My Firewhiskey had come in the form of George Weasley.

"Hi, George," I said, patting the seat next to me. "Come and sit, why don't you?"

He sat down next to me. "Where's Fred?" I asked.

"Dancing with Angelina," he said, sounding bored. "There's really nothing to do."

"No kidding," I said. "Weren't you going with…Alicia Spinnet or someone?"

"Yeah, but it was more as friends," he replied. "She ran off with Katie Bell just now—probably to go talk in the loo."

"Sounds fun," I grinned, stretching my legs. "Well, your date beat mine—he left with Ron to Merlin-knows-where."

"Ooh, with Ickle Ronniekins? Where to?" he asked mockingly.

I gave him a half-glare. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Weasley."

He laughed at me. Since neither of us could think of anything else to say, we fell into a silence which was not quite comfortable, but not awkward either. George wasn't like Harry or Ron. Harry and Ron I could just sit with and not worry about being judged. With George, I was constantly on edge, always looking for something to say or do. This was most annoying because he did not even remotely appear to have the same issue with me.

"You want to dance?" he suddenly asked me.

"Dance? Well—" I tried to find a reason not to, but came up short. "Sure. Why not?"

We got up and started moving towards the dance floor. After carefully avoiding Fred and Angelina, we stopped in a more deserted corner of the hall. But just as we were about to start dancing to the ridiculously fast song, it slowed and stopped.

"Just our luck," muttered George.

A slow song started up. George looked at me, mumbled, "I – well – you don't –" and fell silent again. I made my decision.

I grabbed his shoulders and after a few moments he took my waist. I found myself liking the feel of his hands on my waist. Now I knew why Mirror-Me had been so happy when Mirror-George had put an arm around her waist. He was good at it. Now if only I knew what it was like to closer—

What the hell was I thinking? I couldn't believe I was getting so side-tracked by George's hand on my waist. I had been ignoring all of the things I'd felt or seen last year with Erised or in dreams, counting them off as transitional PMS (I wonder if it was a real thing, but, being one of a kind, I'll never know), but as soon as we got close to being "intimate" I fell back into my old ways. Damn it, what the hell am I going to do with myself now?

_This is where the powerful witch gets over-ruled by the hormonal teenager,_ said a smug inner voice.

Shut up. And I've made it so far without listening to you, too! (This, obviously, was more my whining than an actual part of the conversation. I certainly didn't care about my own whining)

_Don't tell me you're not enjoying it—because I know you're enjoying it._

How do you know?

_Because I'm you, idiot._

This thought snapped me out of my private argument.

"So…this is nice," I said awkwardly.

"Yes," he agreed.

This song was going on forever! I mean, it'd only been about thirty seconds, but that was completely irrelevant. I needed to come up with an excuse that would make sense, be realistic, and not make me seem like the horrible, terrible person I was.

Heh. Yes, _that_ was possible.

"Er, George, I have to..."

"Go?" He seemed amused. "Let me guess, one of the Blast-Ended Skrewts has gone into labor and Hagrid needs your help?"

I glared at him. "I hate to burst your bubble, mister, but my excuse was going to be much more realistic than that."

He glanced over at Angelina Johnson. "Yeah, I bet."

I felt an unknown anger in the pit of my stomach and squashed it like a bug. "You're not so bad alone," I said stupidly, desperate for conversation and (though I'd never admit it) to get him to bring his eyes back to me.

"What?" He seemed almost confused.

"Alone. I mean, without Fred. You're not so...insufferable," I continued. "You actually, you know, talk and think and don't just crack jokes the whole time." I followed his gaze to Angelina. "By the way, I thought it was only the girls who played the jealousy card."

That got his attention. He whipped his head back so fast I was surprised he didn't break his neck. "What d'you mean, jealousy card?"

"You've been staring at her!" I said, anger bursting in my chest. "That Johnson girl. Go dance with _her _if it means so much to you. I – I just – forget it," I sighed. "Never mind. It was a stupid thing to say."

George gave me a half-grin. "Is it all right with you that I didn't follow any of that?"

I snorted. "_I_ didn't follow half of it." I let go of him carefully, but grabbed his arm and lead him out of the Great Hall. "You see, I hate these sort of parties," I told him as I walked.

"Have you been to many?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes," I told him childishly. "I just – I always say really stupid things. It's all the emotions running round the place, I can't handle it."

"Then why did you say yes to Harry?"

"I felt bad for him, honestly," I said. "You know, he was a champion, and he didn't have a date, and he'd had no dancing experience."

"So you were being charitable," he said, arching an eyebrow and smirking.

"No – yes – oh, shut up, George," I grumbled while he laughed.

"C'mon, Nics, don't feel bad," he grinned, slinging an arm over my shoulder. "We all knew you were kind-hearted, really, we just wanted to make you feel better about yourself."

"I take it all back," I said, grimacing. "You _are_ insufferable."

"And don't you forget it!" He added proudly.

We walked in a comfortable silence for a few paces. Or, rather, _he_ walked in a comfortable silence while I went into internal panic mode. In panic mode, which I have experienced only eleven times in my entire life (which is good, as it's about once a century), I tend to shut down.

No, shut down is not a good thing. It means I've completely given up on not being humiliated.

No, of _course_ I hadn't _already given up_, Ginny! Merlin, you make me sound like a coward, which I am not.

"So, er, we should go back to the Gryffindor Common Room..."

George was mightily confused by this statement. "Nicci, honey, where d'you think we're going?"

Argh! This was reminding me horribly of my first Yule Ball, except for in that one, I was calm-and-cool George and my date Hamish was blushing, blundering me. Of course, Hamish was the original Hufflepuff duffer, so that really wasn't any praise to my intelligence.

"No, no, I mean – we _shouldn't _go back to the Gryffindor Common Room." Trying haphazardly to regain my self-esteem, I realized far too late what I had just implied. George, who had been watching me in an over-exaggerated concern, gaped, stumbled on the stairs, and landed arm-first in a trick step.

"Oh Merlin, I'm sorry, George," I gasped, stopping and kneeling down beside him. "Er. This is awkward."

"I've never fallen into a trick step before," George whined. "Nicole!"

I looked around. "Who are you talking to?"

He stared at me. "You, dumbbell. Isn't your full name Nicole?"

"Uh, no." I grabbed his arm and began pulling him out.

He tensed his right arm (which wasn't stuck) and helped me. "What is it, then? Everyone only ever calls you Nicci."

I weighed my chances. Despite all the lies I had told him about _everything_, it might be nice if he knew my first name. "Alecta."

With a loud 'pop!' his arm flew from the trick step, and he slowly stood, massaging his skin. "How the bloody hell do you get Nicci from Alecta?"

"You really don't," I grinned. "But with a name like Nicci everyone assumes, like you did, that my full name is Nicole. Alecta is a little old-fashioned, don't you think?" Well, that was true, at the very least.

"I s'pose." He gave me a boyish grin and I inwardly groaned. "Hey, Nic-Nic" – this time I outwardly groaned – "I've got to give you a new nickname now. How about Ally?" I shook my head in exasperation. "Lex?" I arched an eyebrow. "All right, I admit that was bad." He clapped his hands. "Got it. I'll call you Ava."

I opened my mouth to protest – I even preferred 'Nics' or 'Nic-Nic' over Ava. Ava was personal. I had used the name as a fake a few times before, but this was different. These were people I actually knew and cared about, and Ava was what my father used to call me when I was sad or upset. But I couldn't tell George that, since "military fathers" are not known for their coddling. My lies were unravelling. I had so many different lies with so many different people that just kept getting worse as I added on half-truths. How was I ever going to fix this? When they found out – as I was sure they would – how could they ever trust me?

Wow. Was I usually that angsty, or was that my teenage hormones running rampant?

"Nope, no buts, Miss Ava Lonsen. I will revolt against the prejudices set upon you by your nickname!"

"My middle name is Nicola," I said to him finally, deciding to ignore his nonsensical statement. "My father's mother was Italian."

"What was her name?" he asked me keenly.

I stared at him. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because you never talk about your family," he said, unabashed. "This is the first I've heard about them – except for them being dragon tamers in Romania," he added as I opened my mouth yet again.

I sat down on the step, arranging my skirt like Aunt Helga had always told me to. It seemed the lessons of my two aunts only came out when I was exceedingly uncomfortable or nervous. "Fine," I said, admitting defeat. "Her name was Abelia."

George stared at me. "Isn't that just a really complicated way of saying Abigail?"

"No, it's a type of honeysuckle," I shot back at him. "Anyway, Abigail is longer than Abelia." It was then that we both realized we were small talking. George gasped in horror.

"Do you realize you're a bit of a drama queen?" I asked teasingly.

"Me? A drama queen? You're off your rocker!"

"Dearest Alecta, you might want to look a bit more presentable. I can hardly imagine what they'll say if you show yourself in that."

George and I stopped bantering and looked down the hallways. I recognized that voice, but it couldn't be, not _again._ "Did you hear that?" asked George.

"Uh-huh," I said.

"Cassandra, leave me alone."

"Or what?" asked Cassandra. My face tightened. _Oh, crap._

"George, let's go."

"What?" he said. "Wouldn't a – a – a someone like you find these amazing?"

"A _someone_?"

"I mean...you know, a smart type."

"That's not even slightly true."

"Oh." He seemed confused, triumphant, and mischievous, all at the same time. "So, you're saying you're _not _smart?" He was full-out grinning now.

Damn him.

"Forget it," I said, defeated. "Wait a minute – these? Hasn't there only been one?"

"'Course not," said George. "They've been all over. There was one in the middle of our Transfiguration class a few months ago – it was awesome, McGonagall didn't even notice us playing Exploding Snap in the back of the classroom..."

"George!"

"What? It's not like they're interesting. It's history, Ava, and history is never fun." He tapped me on the nose.

I wrinkled my nose and said, "And Exploding Snap is?"

"Ava," said George seriously, clutching a hand to his chest, "you _wound _me! How dare you insinuate that Exploding Snap is anything less than the _best thing on Earth_!"

"Easy there, soldier," I said, pushing him away from the spectacle I was currently making down the hall. "Before you go off and start the next Crusades, I would inform you that I wouldn't dream of insinuating anything of the sort."

He eyed me suspiciously, but I saw the flash of amusement on his face. "All right then, Lady Ava," he said boisterously. "I, Sir George, shall make you a partner in Exploding-Snap-related crime!"

"Ouch," I said. "That's it? I must admit, Sir George, I am disappointed. Aren't Sir Lee and Sir Fred your partners in all things crime?"

"Ah, but they are my brothers-in-arms!"

"All right, knock it off with the medieval speech, you're too good at it," I huffed as we walked up more flights of stairs.

"I do apologize."

"You should."

I stopped him when we reached the landing. "So, this has been really fun and all, and your medieval impressions have made it worth dressing up, and I think we should –"

That was when George kissed me. I'm really not sure if he pitied my mumbling or he just wanted to shut me up, but honestly, it was worth it either way. We stood there kissing for about twenty seconds before my lack of oxygen brought me back to my senses.

I stared at him in surprise, and I actually _saw_ my surprise mirrored on his face. I let out a huge breath. "...or we could do that." And with that, I sucked in a breath, drew together all my courage, and bolted.

Did I say courage? I meant cowardice.

I didn't stop running until I hit the Fat Lady (literally), gasped out the password, and fell into the Common Room (also literally). Ron and Hermione were standing on opposite sides of the Common Room, flushed and breathing hard, as though they'd just been shouting. I picked myself up, called, "If George asks, I'm not here," and flew into my dormitory.

"Oh, is _that _what you said?" asked Hermione finally. "It sounded more like"–she mimed breathing very hard–"George...isn't...not...here..."

"That doesn't make any sense!" Ginny crowed, who was having trouble breathing through her laughter. "Not only did you kiss my brother, but you _bungled_ kissing my brother!"

"Thank you, Ginny," I said sarcastically. "I really wanted to know exactly what you thought of that."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm going upstairs to change. Nicci, unless you want to look like a raccoon tomorrow morning, I suggest you do the same."

"I'll be up in a minute," I called after her. "...Mum," I added under my breath.

"You need a mum," Ginny said, wiping tears from her eyes. "Scratch that, you need a keeper."

I stuck my tongue out at her. "How was Michael Corner?" I was really hoping to get back at her.

She raised her eyebrows, but blushed all the same. "He was nice," she said. "I like him a lot. He's a Ravenclaw, but he's not a know-it-all. He seems to like me too."

"Well, at least one of us got lucky," I mumbled. "What about Hermione?"

"She was arguing with Ron about Krum. No matter how you spin it, screaming at your best friend about your Yule date is not a lucky break. Guess I'm the best we've got."

"We're doomed," I muttered.

"Har-har," said Ginny. She looked me over. "Those robes can't be comfortable, and Hermione's right – you'll look a right mess if you don't go clean up now."

"'Night," I said, as I pushed off from the bed and headed towards the door.

"Have georgeous dreams tonight, Nicci!"

I stopped in the doorway and glared at her. "Very funny, Ginny, g_eorge_-ous dreams. Bloody hilarious."

"What are you talking about?" said Ginny innocently.

I stalked out of the room and slammed the door loudly behind me. I then opened it, whispered, "Sorry," and closed the door again.

I could actually hear Ginny's laughter follow me up the stairs.

**A/N: Well, now. Ginny and Alecta are becoming better friends. ****Yay!**

**I know I've done a really bad job explaining Alecta's past and stuff, but that's because 5th year is basically my big information dump. She won't be around at Hogwarts very much (I think that if I have Alecta and Umbridge interact, I'll end up killing her and that is really, really not canon****), but you will get to spend more time with Erised, Ben, and Hailey, as well as meeting the other immortals. It'll be one majorly awesome party. But you'll have to wait for the end of 4th year!**

**Sorry.**

**I am currently disclaiming my work, but I refuse to write it out because it's stupid. Everyone knows this isn't mine.**


	30. Chapter 28: Winning the Battle

**Chapter 28: Winning the Battle, Losing the War**

**Alecta:**

"Erised! ERISED!" There was something I needed to know, and if that stupid girl didn't show up when I needed her, when she consistently showed up when I _didn't _need her, there was going to be trouble.

"Alecta, you're going to wake the whole castle." I spun around, but instead of seeing Erised, I was met with my floating dead friend, who was wearing a frown.

"I don't really care all that much," I told her, matching her frown with a sneer. "I need my mirror, damnit!"

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't actually belong to you," came Erised's annoyed voice.

I stomped over to her, not caring that I looked like a toddler. "What is going on inside of this _damned castle_?"

"Hailey, please." I glared at Erised – in the background, I could hear Ben snickering. "Alecta, we need to deal with something else –"

"No! I will not just be dealt with!" I shrieked. "Why is my life's history playing on endless repeat where _people can see it_?"

Erised sighed. "I don't know. Alecta –"

"You don't know? How don't you know? You know _everything_! About _everything_!"

"We let her stew too long," admitted Ben.

"Screw you," I snapped.

"Alecta!" yelled Erised. "We don't know what's going on! We have no idea what is happening to you, to Hogwarts, or to your history! It doesn't matter! We have _bigger problems _than your ridiculous teenage angst sessions."

Hailey, Ben, and I stared at Erised open-mouthed. "Erised, that isn't very nice," said Hailey, taking charge. "Alecta's just worried about the repercussions of –"

"There's a Death Eater in Hogwarts."

I stared at her. "Beg your pardon?"

"There is a Death Eater. Inside your precious school."

"_Our_ precious school," I corrected.

Ben frowned. "Yes, I can see how that would be a bit more important than Alecta's teenage angst sessions..."

"Oi!"

"Just a bit, mind you," Hailey tacked on, trying to keep the peace.

"I refuse to call my personal crises 'teenage angst sessions,'" I snapped at them.

"You are all completely missing the point here!" cried Erised, throwing her hands in the air. "There is a _DEATH EATER._ In _HOGWARTS._"

"Yes, Erised, we know."

"Why're you being so dramatic?"

"How on Earth did you find out anyway?" asked Hailey calmly.

"I was looking at people during the Ball," Erised lied.

"You went to the Ball, and you waited three days to tell me about it?" I asked, perfectly aware of the fact that she wasn't telling the truth.

As Hailey and I looked on, Erised closed her eyes. Ben raised his eyebrows. "I had to be sure," she said in a quiet, controlled voice. "Come."

Even I knew not to argue with Erised when she used that tone of voice. That was her 'I-am-so-unbelievably-angry-at-you' voice. "I've been in contact with Lady Marlow –"

"Lady Marlow?"

"Why would you be in touch with _her_?"

"I never really liked her."

"–nobody asked you, Ben – and she says that there have been rises in Dark magic in Britain and in Hogwarts."

"What about Queen Maria? Is she fighting it off?"

"Queen Maria _Theresa_, how many times do I have to tell you, Hailey?" Erised groaned. "No, she's been tasked with reuniting all of the Immortals."

"Reuniting the _Immortals_?"

"After all this time?"

"That sounds like a really, really bad idea."

"Gerhild, Fabricius, and Cnaeus set it up. There's going to be a huge meeting in London next year, right after Fabricius and Cnaeus get out of their little prison cell."

"What are you talking about, the house is huge!"

"Ben, if you don't shut your mouth, I will hurt you." Erised sighed. "We're going to fight. But before we can do that, _you_ need to take care of this Death Eater."

"Fight? What are you talking about?"

"Weyer and Bamberg have already started gathering information from their..._things_," said Erised, ignoring my question. "Weyer's using his demons to learn about the nature of the Dark magic, and Bamberg's been using the Resurrection Stone to call up the dead, asking about the powers Voldemort's army possesses – he was a necromancer, remember? It's all coming together."

"_What _is?" I blurted out.

"The Second War!" said Erised impatiently. "Voldemort's coming back and we're going to be ready for him."

There was absolute silence.

"War?" asked Hailey timidly.

"We..._believe_ the final battle will be at Hogwarts," said Erised. "That means we can't directly help, which means we're responsible for taking care of Voldemort's forces – when he falls, there can't be anything left for the army to fall back on."

"Wait," I said. "Wait. War? You don't even know that Voldemort's returning!"

"Yes, we do," said Erised. "Johann Weyer found the remains of Bertha Jorkins a few weeks ago. He contacted Bamberg immediately and we've learned everything we can. Voldemort is working through Peter Pettigrew, and he plans to use the Tri-Wizard Tournament for his return."

"How?"

"We don't know, but we think it has something to do with Diggory's death."

"Merlin," I sighed, taking a hard seat on the floor. Erised sat on a desk, looking very tall and in-control. "Why does no one tell me anything?"

"These plans were made fairly recently," said Erised sharply. "You're one of the first to be informed."

"Does Ophelia know?" asked Hailey.

"_Ophelia_?" I repeated. "Since when d'you know Ophelia?"

"I met her a few weeks ago," replied Hailey guiltily. "I liked her."

"With Ophelia taking over for Fabricius, it's imperative that she knows what's going on," said Erised. "Yes, she already knows."

"But she's so young," said Ben. "Usually, Immortals aren't brought into the loop until much later on."

"We know. However, she was chosen specifically to be Cnaeus's partner." Erised crossed her arms. "I can't imagine why. She's got the maturity level of a fifteen-year-old boy."

"Ouch," I said.

"That wasn't a nice way of putting it, but...yes, it's true," said Hailey. Ben and I gaped at her. If _Hailey_ pointed out a flaw, it must be really bad.

"What about Lady Pythia?" asked Ben. "She must foresee trouble with the pair."

"Actually, Lady Pythia was the one who suggested it," said Erised. "And how exactly do you argue with the Oracle at Delphi?" There was a long pause as everyone considered arguing with Lady Pythia. "I didn't think so."

"Any idea who's taking over for Fabricius when he croaks?"

"_No_, Ben," snapped Erised. "And just because _you're_ dead, it doesn't mean you get to be so insensitive!"

"He's been alive for two thousand years," said Ben, rolling his eyes. "It's hardly a tragedy."

Hailey leaned over to me as we stood watching the two of them bicker and said, "How can someone so smart be so daft?"

I shook my head slowly. "I think he just likes making Erised angry."

Hailey wrinkled her nose. "She's completely out of his league."

"He's also, you know, _dead_." I stared at her.

She blushed. "Right! Of course, I knew that."

"Old feelings, huh?"

"Wha –? No! Alec – I can't even believe you'd think – it's not even a little bit true – Oh, bugger off! You have a Death Eater to kill!"

"Right!" Erised took the opportunity to leave Ben and return to her previous information session. "You. Death Eater."

"Who?"

"...What?"

"Who's the Death Eater?"

Erised looked awkward. "Oh! Er, well, we don't actually, uh, know."

The three of us stared at her. "You don't know?"

"No. We have no idea. We just know there _is_ one."

"Do you have any idea how many people live in this school? How am I supposed to pick out one Death Eater?"

"It shouldn't be that hard!" cried Erised. "Just wait for him to do something...Death Eater-y."

"Are you _joking_? All of that war and violence and prepared-ness, and you ruin it with 'Death Eater-y?'"

"I do apologize," said Erised stiffly.

"Well, at the very least you have something to do," Hailey said, trying to brighten the mood.

"Oh, yes, looking for Death Eaters, that's just what I wanted to do today."

Erised rolled her eyes and walked off. "Good luck, Alecta."

"'Good luck, Alecta,'" I mocked as the three of us walked together down the corridor.

"Don't be a killjoy," said Ben. "You've wanted something to do, and now you have it."

"Smashing."

"Put a sock in it," Ben snapped.

"Both of you, please be quiet,"said Hailey, always the peace-keeper. Alecta, you're griping needlessly. Ben, you're being rude. Alecta, you're griping needlessly."

"You already said that," I told her.

"No, no, no!" she said, an expression of realization on her face. "You _adore_ chasing down Death Eaters, and even if you weren't in the mood, you certainly wouldn't complain about it. What's happened?"

"Nothing," I said moodily. I hadn't even realized it. Hailey was right – I never complained about finding bad guys. There must be something wrong. Something..._ohhhhh_.

"Boy trouble," said Ben immediately.

"How d'you know?"

"Because Alecta is as transparent as water when it comes to that sort of thing."

"I am not," I said. "You didn't even realize it until just now."

"So there _is_ something wrong!" cried Hailey triumphantly.

Damn. "No. I'm going to bed." With that, I left them standing on the landing and entered the Common Room.

Ben turned to Hailey. "5 shots it's Weasley, not Diggory."

"Ben, _nobody_ would make that bet."

"Blast."

* * *

There is, I admit, a certain sense of pride you get knowing you are a man (or in this case, woman) on a mission. You walk around the castle, and people think you're just a regular girl on her way to her Charms class. But you're not!

You're a special girl (with a mission) on her way to her Charms class.

Uh-oh. Now you're a special girl (with a mission) being accosted by one Cedric Diggory on her way to her Charms class.

Double uh-oh. He looks angry. Why does he look angry?

"Hello, Nicci."

"Er, hi, Cedric."

"D'you have a moment?"

"Uh, no, not really – I mean, sure. Take your time." I wasn't really afraid of him, but it seemed better to let him get it off his chest now, instead of letting him stew until he worked himself into a rage. Besides, I had some raging I wanted to do as well, and he seemed almost too good of a target. I really hoped I got to yell

"Thanks."

"...Anytime." This might be the strangest conversation I'd ever had. With anyone. Even Fred and – woah, Alecta. Let's not take that path right now. "So, what's the matter?"

"Did you enjoy the Yule Ball?"

The immediate answer was 'no' followed by an overwhelming 'yes, I most certainly did,' so I settled on, "I heard you went with Cho Chang. She's a lovely girl."

...That was not the correct answer. This might be the angriest I've ever seen him. And I've seen him lose a chunk of himself to a Swedish Short-Snout.

"I thought you were going alone. I thought you said you didn't want a date, especially not Potter."

"First of all," I said angrily, my righteous pride taking over, "it is none of your bloody business who I go to the Yule Ball with. Maybe I just didn't want to go with _you_, you arrogant prat!"

"I just meant –"

"That I should tell you all my plans first, _Dad_? If I want to bloody snog Harry Potter all bloody night, I bloody will, and there is nothing you can bloody do about it!" I think I just used the word 'bloody' too many times in that sentence.

It felt _good_.

I walked off, but Cedric followed me anyhow, completely ignoring the fact that I was currently very angry with him. We left the hall and entered the quad, but – fortunately for him – there was no one else there.

"Listen to me," he said, unsure exactly of how the tables were turned, "I didn't mean to offend you."

"No, of _course_ you didn't," I snapped. I was not a happy Alecta. "I really do apologize for not _lying _at your feet like all the other girls in this school do, but I really, _really _am not interested in you. At all. Even a little. And the truth is, I was friends with Harry before you were even a tiny 'blip' on my radar, and I'm certainly not going to make him look a fool just so _you're_ content! Go back to Cho and leave me alone, you pathetic wanker!"

And with that, I turned on my heel and left. I was almost at my Charms class when I realized something highly important. _Oh, Merlin. I just called Cedric Diggory a wanker._

__**A/N: I can't believe I just did this. I uploaded two chapters within a reasonable amount of time!**

**You are entitled to leave reviews praising my outstanding uploading.**

**I enjoyed this chapter. It's shorter than the other ones, but it's also more important. Those characters from the first part will show up again, and you'll learn more about them later. The second part was just really, really fun. **

**Next chapter is task and Death Eater stalking!**

**Chapter after that is probably third task. I'd say we're only about five chapters from the end of 4th year.**

**I'm even more awesome than I originally thought.**

**Buh-bye!**


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